


Exspecto anima sanguis

by jayfray18



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayfray18/pseuds/jayfray18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires are real and live amongst humans, constantly searching for their feeder - the one human who will sustain them for eternity. After years of searching, Jeffrey Dean Morgan finds his feeder, only to watch her die in his arms at the moment of feeding. Her family, fueled by hatred and revenge become vampire hunters. Years later, Jensen Ackles has to decide between his family and their hatred of vampires, and his destiny as a feeder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Kink Big Bang over on lj.

Prologue

 **London, May 1897**

Sitting in one of the chairs flanking the fire place, Abraham ‘Bram’ Stoker closed the book. Running a finger over the red and yellow of the cover, he sighed. He had never been sure during the writing of _Dracula – a Vampire’s search for his Feeder_ if he would ever approach a publishing house with his manuscript. It was too personal, evoking too many painful memories for them both, and told of things that he wasn’t sure the world was ready to hear. Even though he knew people needed to know what was contained within these pages.

A hand brushing against his shoulder brought the writer out of his fugue. Smiling tightly at the figure moving around the study to sit in the chair opposite, he handed the book over. Closing his eyes, Bram waited for a reaction. The silence stretched out for long, interminable minutes, only broken by the occasional turning of a page.

Unable to take the suspense any longer, Bram opened his eyes and asked, “Well?”

Alexander ‘Count’ Dracula, born in Szekely Land, Transylvania in the year 1425 watched the anxious man and let a grin slowly spread across his face.

“I still cannot believe you wrote a book about me, about us!” he laughed. “Did you write about my search for you? About feeding? About all the um, _other_ things?” The pleasure and curiosity ran through his words.

Shaking his head, Bram moved over and sat on the floor between his vampire’s spread legs. “Some Alex, but I couldn’t write about the centuries you searched for me, about the pain you suffered. So I simply said that we met by chance 6 months after you became a vampire when I was touring Europe. And that you knew I was your feeder by my scent,” he said, cupping a hand around Dracula’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over the full lower lip of his lover. “The rest, however, is too personal to share with a reading populous.”

Putting the book aside, Alexander kissed his partner and smiled. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Moving back slightly, Dracula slowly pulled Stoker’s tie loose and removed the studs holding the starched white shirt closed. Pulling the shirt front apart, he placed a gentle kiss on the steadily pulsing vein he had revealed. “May I feed, my love?” Dracula asked softly as he breathed in the unique scent of his feeder.

Drawing in a ragged breath at the feel of cool lips ghosting over his skin, Bram nodded his ascent. Fangs lowered, Dracula wrapped his arm around Bram’s shoulder and bit down. They both moaned and pushed closer to each other. The blood flowed from one to the other, life sustaining for both. Lifting his head a minute later, Dracula licked at the already healing wounds before kissing Bram’s parted lips gently, familiarly. Leaning together, the men took a moment to enjoy the intimacy the feeding had engendered.

It was always like this between a vampire and his feeder; the one human that would be able to sustain a vampire for eternity, and was the reason that vampires ‘hunted’ for their feeder. Any human could be fed upon by a vampire. The aging process would be slowed down almost indefinitely, but only a vampire’s feeder could provide immortality – to both vampire and feeder.

Tales had been told for centuries about the blood-lust of vampires. Mostly exaggerated, or taken out of context; the rumors and stories spread from village to town, country to country. Descriptions of vampires sucking a human dry of their blood, of them turning into bats abounded. Folklore was rampant with details on a vampire’s weaknesses, on how to kill one.

It was one such rumor, heard in a country tavern in Exeter 15 years previous that had sent Bram to first Germany, then Hungary, and on into Transylvania, searching for the vampire Count Dracula. Ostracized by his family, forced to hunt humans to survive, Dracula had gained a reputation as a ruthless killer. But it was at odds with the man that Bram found himself inexplicably drawn to in a crumbling castle deep in the Carpathian Mountains.

But, as Bram had discovered when talking with Dracula the first day they met, the only piece of vampire lore that was correct was the way to kill one – a stake through the heart. Holy water only wet the skin, garlic added flavor to their food and sunlight tanned the skin. As many older vampires were originally members of the clergy, vampires obviously had no trouble with silver, crosses or holy ground, Dracula had told the astonished Irishman.

Unfortunately though, as with all creatures, there were good and bad. Most vampires would only take enough blood from a human that was not their feeder to survive, and only with permission. But some would glut themselves and drain the human, leaving a mere husk behind. As the tales of vampire killings grew, so fear of vampires grew, and they became some of the most hunted creatures on the planet.

Bram also learned during the days spent in the castle that every vampire had a feeder and that a vampire would search for their human, drawn by the unique scent that attracted them. Alexander said that Bram smelt of ink, cigars and cinnamon. And when Alexander was nearly asleep, that his feeder smelt of home.

“Do you think the book will change public views of vampires?” Bram asked later in the evening, after the couple had shared a dinner with friends wishing to celebrate the publication of his book.

“If it helps even one vampire find his feeder, or changes one human’s perception of vampires then it can only be for the good, my love,” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “You cannot change the views of the world over night, Bram; tales of killer vampires – monsters of the night – have been around as long as vampires have existed. It may take just as long to change.”

Bram sighed wearily. He knew Alexander was right, but that did not stop him hoping that perceptions would be changed. Leaning into the older man, he watched as the flames of the fire danced and flickered in the grate. The hope that his book would make life more bearable for vampires was what had made him publish it in the end. He wanted to spare any vampire from the persecution that his own had suffered.

Alex ran his fingers through Bram’s hair as they sat quietly, recalling the pain of his long search, and the relief when he finally found his feeder. Bending forwards he placed a kiss on the top of Bram’s head. His feeder turned and looked at him, eyebrow raised in question.

“Just remembering,” Dracula said in answer to the unasked question.

Standing, Bram pulled his lover up with him. “Come,” he said, “Let us go make some new happier memories.”

Dracula laughed out loud as he followed Bram to their bedroom, closing the door on the world for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Philadelphia, August 1899**

Sarah Ackles shifted the basket of vegetables to her other arm, and walked a little faster, well, as fast as a woman who was eight months pregnant could walk. It was growing darker by the second, and the rain that had been threatening to fall all day was slowly starting to splash down in heavy drops.

Her husband, Fredrick – Freddie to his family, was still working on the plot of land the city council had allocated them the previous year in an attempt to help the jobless feed themselves and their families. It was a godsend to the couple, especially now that Sarah was so close to her confinement. Ever since Freddie had been unable to find a steady job after finishing work on the construction of Broad Street Station, they had been living on hand outs from Sarah’s family and the infrequent odd jobs Freddie could pick up.

Walking along Market Street towards their small, one room apartment on Chestnut Street, Sarah was planning what meals she could make that would be filling, but need little or no meat to add to their flavor. Having walked the route nearly every day since they had received their plot of land, Sarah was relaxed and paying no attention to her surroundings. The rain had turned into a heavy downpour, soaking her and emptying the quiet street of its last remaining pedestrians.

A hand on her arm made her cry out in shock and she dropped the basket, spilling the precious contents all over the sidewalk. The man staring at her was pale and gaunt behind the beard that covered his face, and he had a desperate gleam in his hazel eyes. Sarah opened her mouth to scream, but her attacker covered it quickly with his hand.

“Please, don’t hurt my baby,” Sarah begged from behind the hand as she was pulled into a nearby alleyway.

“I won’t hurt you,” the man assured her as he pushed the frightened woman against the wall. “I could never hurt you. You’re mine,” he promised as he licked at Sarah’s neck, shuddering as her scent, _freshly cut grass and vanilla,_ and taste spread through him. Sarah was terrified; she could feel her attacker’s erection pressing into her stomach as his tongue dragged over her skin.

“Please, no," Sarah begged, images of being raped and murdered flashing through her mind and the need to protect her unborn baby made her fight; kicking and scratching at the man as he pressed as close as her pregnant body would allow. Easily subduing the struggling woman, the man pulled back slightly. Her bright green eyes were filled with terror, their long lashes spiked wet from the rain and her tears.

“Shh, my sweet. Shh. Everything will be fine, don’t fight me, don’t fight this,” he said, lowering his head to lick at Sarah’s neck once more. Shuddering at the taster, the attacker released his fangs and bit deep. The vampire moaned into the bite. The taste was unbelievable, and all his senses seemed to magnify, become stronger. He could feel the life force growing between them. To drink from his feeder was everything he’d ever imagined and more.

As her blood flowed from Sarah into the vampire, she started to panic and twist. The need to escape and protect her baby was all she could think about. Her body ignored all the signs that she was safe as she fought more desperately. As the vampire drank deeply, Sarah pulled back, jerking her head away from the attack, ripping the vampire’s teeth from her neck.

The vampire growled, not realizing that the woman before him was terrified. Sarah bought a shaking hand to the wound on her neck and cried out as her hand came away covered in blood. Pulling away from the vampire had ripped her neck open. Holding her hand tight against the wound as blood flowed from between her fingers, Sarah staggered away from the vampire.

“I can help, my love,” the vampire said as Sarah backed further into the alley, her life’s blood slowly seeping from her body.

“Stay away from me,” Sarah gasped out, collapsing to the ground, her other hand pressed tight across her belly. _I’m so sorry, my darling_ she thought feeling her baby kick, _so sorry_. Feeling weaker by the second, Sarah lay down, no longer able to fight against the inevitable.

The vampire stared in horror. This could not be happening. Not now. He had been searching for over 70 years; he could not lose his feeder now. Crashing to his knees, the vampire cradled Sarah’s body to his chest, tears mingling with the rain on his face. The guilt pressed in from all sides as he watched his feeder fade away. Tipping his head back, he cried out his anguish; an awful, keening cry fading into the black night sky.

In surrounding apartments, people shuddered and crossed themselves against the unholy sound of a vampire losing their feeder.

 **Richardson, Dallas, October 1979**

Alan Ackles stood watching as his sons slept. It had been a long day but it was far from over. And Alan knew that he needed one last glimpse of the living before he could go downstairs and start looking at the dead again tonight.

Pouring himself a large whiskey, Alan sat at the dining room table ten minutes later and looked at the boxes his grandfather had left him in his will. The fifteen boxes containing what was left of the man's life. Taking a much needed sip of the whiskey to calm him down, Alan picked the closest box up off the floor, and placed it on the table before taking off the lid.

The first seven boxes were full of paperwork, insurance documents for the car and house, some going back to when his grandparents had first married in 1922. Bank statements and unused check books, details of investments, birth and marriage certificates, and Alan’s grandmother’s death certificate. All stored in neatly labeled envelopes, some so brown with age the writing on the front was nearly indecipherable. Why on earth his grandfather had kept paper work that was over fifty years old, Alan had no idea.

Putting the useful papers in one pile and leaving the rest in the box he had found them in, Alan arched his back, stretching tired, aching muscles. Looking at the clock, he saw it was nearly 1am. Picking up box number eight, Alan decided to just have a quick look before going to bed and starting again in the morning. It was heavier than the others and thudded loudly on the polished oak table top.

Lifting the lid, Alan stared at the neat rows of leather bound books the box contained. Counting quickly he tallied up and realized that the box held twenty-four books. Pulling out the one closest to him, Alan read _Journal of Frederick John Ackles Jr, July 1914 – December 1914_ written in elegant cursive script. Flicking through what he now saw to be a journal, Alan paused to read an entry.

  
 _  
**Monday August 10th, 1914**   
_

_Father took me hunting in Willow Grove this past weekend. He drove the 1911 Stoddard-Dayton. It has 50HP, with Dual cam, hemispherical head engine and an overhead valve. The feel of the wind rushing by at top speed was amazing. I felt as though I was flying._

 _It only took an hour to reach Willow Grove. Father cornered the vampire easily, and held the monster down while I plunged the wooden stake through its cold, vile heart._

 _I felt only a moment’s remorse at taking the life of another creature, then remembered what this creature and its kind had taken from me and my family, and felt joy that I could prevent another child from suffering the loss I have felt all my life._

 _Henry was so jealous when I told him of my excursion in the automobile and made me tell him all about it – three times!_

  
Closing the journal, Alan stared blankly at the wall opposite. His family’s hatred of vampires was well known. In fact his grandfather had been one of the most prolific vampire hunters on the East Coast until the law making it illegal to hunt and kill the creatures in 1954, three years after Alan was born.

Putting the journal back, Alan knelt and opened the remaining boxes. All but one contained the same leather bound journals. The other box held photographs and letters and Alan set it to one side to look at later. Sitting back on his heels, Alan sorted the journal boxes into date order. Looking through quickly, he saw that the journals started when his grandfather was 10 and continued up until his death at the age of 80 last week. Moving a note book in front of him, Alan jotted down details of the journals; some years had two journals and a few had three, occasionally only one.

Alan stood tiredly and stretched, trying to ease the kinks left from sitting still for so long. He decided to come back to this in the morning when he was slightly more awake. Turning the light off and shutting the dining room door, Alan headed to bed, wondering what he would learn about his family in the morning.

Reading through the journals over the following days, Alan learned more about his grandfather and great-grandfather than he ever knew before. It was obvious the loss of Sarah on the day of John’s birth had devastated the family, especially Freddie. But Alan thought it was more the manner of Sarah’s death, and the fact that her killer had never been found that haunted his great-grandfather and set him on the path of revenge that he was reading about.

Taking a break from the journal covering the first six months of 1928, Alan wandered through to the kitchen in search of coffee and maybe some of Donna’s special brownies he could smell baking. The sound of a child’s laughter met his ears, and he stood in the kitchen doorway and watched as his sons ‘helped’ their mom. They were all covered in chocolate; Josh had chocolate all around his mouth and in his eyebrows, Donna had small hand print sized blobs on her face and Jensen had the cake mixture everywhere.

“Dad!” Josh cried when he spotted his dad lurking by the door. Donna and Jensen turned around quickly, the toddler losing his footing on the chair he was stood on. Alan lunged across the space and caught the little boy before he crashed to the floor.

Jensen just turned big luminous green eyes to his daddy, and squealed “Daddy!” excitedly before babbling away and patting at Alan with brownie covered fingers. Joining in the laughter, he decided that the journals would wait for a little while; spending time with his boys would be a welcome relief from all the darkness and death that his granddaddy’s journals were filled with.

Donna rested a hand on her husband’s back and rubbed lightly. The tension radiating off him was easing as he spent some time away from the awful diaries and relaxed with the rest of them. She had flicked through a couple of the journals over the last few days at Alan’s bidding and found them filled with hate and revenge, all aimed at vampires. The few entries she had read were bone chilling.

That a child of ten should know the best way to trap and kill a vampire, and _enjoy_ doing so was beyond her. Prejudice against vampires ran deep in the Ackles clan. That had always been obvious, and while Alan didn’t have the deep seated hatred that the rest of his family possessed, he was still very wary of the creatures, and had little to no contact with them.

One entry stuck with her, from the journal John had written in 1925, just after Alan’s father Edward was born.

  
 _  
**Sunday November 1st 1925**   
_

_I found a vampire nest - a house on the outskirts of town with at least seven of the vile creatures living there. We could not be sure of the exact number as we were unable to gain access to the house. Sophia’s parents have been staying with us to allow her mother to help after her confinement after the birth of our son Edward and I was unable to leave for extended periods of time without raising suspicion._

 _I gathered a group of like-minded men numbering eleven in total, and we drove to the small estate yesterday evening. The plan was to quite literally smoke the beasts from their lair, and it worked reasonably well._

 _There was some confusion in the smoke, and I fear that at least two, maybe as many as five, escaped. But we were successful in ridding the world of three vampires and their abhorrent feeders. I personally dispatched two of the pathetic humans attached to the nest. How any human can allow themselves to be touched, let alone feed upon by something as evil as a vampire, I cannot understand._

 _The world felt a little brighter this morning as I stood watching my son in his crib, and I knew that there were three less creatures set upon hunting and killing him as they did my beloved mother._

  
Donna ached for the child that John had been, but was grateful that he at least had survived the vampire attack that had killed Sarah Ackles. A forward thinking doctor in the hospital Sarah was taken to after the attack had operated to bring a small, premature baby into the world with a rushed caesarean, knowing that it was too late to try and save the mother but hoping to be able to save the child.

Freddie had arrived home later that evening in August 1899 to be stopped in the street by a neighbor telling him to rush to the hospital. The loss of Sarah had left Freddie stunned, and when it was established that it was almost certainly a vampire attack, the bereaved husband made it his life’s goal to kill every single one of the creatures he came across, and he was determined to raise his son to do the same.

So the Ackles family hatred of vampires was born. Even Freddie’s re-marriage and subsequent children had not stopped the angry man from pursuing vampires. It had simply provided him with more young minds to warp and train.

Time had eased and diluted some of the rage and anger, but many of Alan’s relatives were strongly and vocally anti-vampire. The new proposals giving a vampire the same rights as a human had caused outrage, and last Thanksgiving had been spent listening to vitriol and plans to lobby the government and ensure that the laws never came about.

It was the same at any family gathering that included more than one member of Alan’s family, and Donna had been grateful that Jensen had been only 8 months old, so had been the perfect excuse to take her little family home early. Donna’s family was diametrically the opposite of Alan’s. Living across the street from a vampire and his feeder all her life had allowed her to see exactly how strong and loving the bond was between a vampire and feeder, and Donna was not going to raise her children with all the prejudice that had tainted Alan’s childhood.

“Bath time, Josh,” Donna called out as she scooped a wriggling Jensen from the carpet and started up the stairs. “Bring the other boxes through; we can look at them after we put these little hellions to bed,” Donna said over her shoulder to Alan as he started to follow. He nodded his understanding, knowing that his wife didn’t want him reading the letters and looking at the pictures on his own, not after the way the journals had affected him.

With the boys settled down for the evening, Donna and Alan placed the last box on the couch between them and opened it. Alan picked a bundle of letters and pulled the first one from its envelope, while Donna sorted through the photographs. The letter was from his great-uncle Henry to John, giving details of a vampire located in upstate New York inviting John on the hunt. Alan could feel the bile slowly rising in his throat.

The journals had been bad enough, but to read this excitement about the taking of a life was too much.  Vampire hatred had been fed to him with his mother’s milk, it was that ingrained.  But since leaving his family and moving south to Texas, he had at last been able to remove himself from the tainted influence they had.   
   
Alan was honest enough with himself to know that he would never welcome a vampire into his home.  But the all burning revenge that motivated so many of his relatives had faded after years under gentle southern hands. Looking over the box at the owner of those hands, Alan smiled to himself, thanking his lucky stars the day he met Donna Shaffer in college.   
   
“Do you know who this is?” Donna asked as she handed over a sepia picture of a young woman standing next to a pedestal with a large fern on it sometime later. “Do you think it could be Sarah?”  
   
Alan was glad of the break from the letters, most of which followed the same vein as the first.  Taking the photograph, he studied it for a moment before turning it over.  The back was blank and he shrugged.   
   
“Looks to be from the turn of the century, by her dress.  But I couldn’t be sure,” he said. “See if there are anymore of her.”  
   
Donna started rifling through the photos and a moment later handed over a close up of the same photo just showing the mystery woman’s head and shoulder.  And a second later, another photograph showing the woman, standing next to an unimposing slightly older man with _Freddie and Sarah – 1897_ written in the border.  
   
“Freddie and Sarah,” Donna read quietly.  “She was very beautiful, wasn’t she?”  
   
Alan nodded, before looking at the picture by the fern once more.  His great-grandmother.  Smiling, he traced a finger over her face before offering the picture back to his wife.   
   
“Look at her eyes,” Alan said. “They seem familiar.”  
   
Donna smiled softly, having seen those wide eyes framed by long lashes when she kissed a sleepy toddler goodnight earlier on and said, “Jensen has her eyes.”

 **Los Angeles, February 2005**  
   
Jeffrey Dean Morgan followed an assistant into the reading room at Warner Brothers studios.  He’d been asked to come in by Eric Kripke and do a read through for a part in a pilot Eric was involved with. Shaking hands with everybody in the room, Jeff sat down at the table and waited for everybody else to settle down. He’d liked the character of John Winchester when his agent had sent him the script, and really wanted the chance to play this broken man.  
   
Taking a deep steadying breath to calm his nerves, Jeff felt everything inside seize up. Freshly cut grass and vanilla, with a hint of something else. Something that pulled at an elemental part of him; something he hadn’t smelt since a rainy night in Philadelphia over 100 years ago.  His feeder had been in this room, Jeff was certain of it, and he lost himself in the memory of the unique smell and taste he had found and lost in the space of a heartbeat.   
   
A hand on his arm drew Jeff out of his reverie, and he looked at the assistant passing him a cup of coffee.  Smiling his thanks, he took a sip of the hot liquid. “Sorry, just getting inside John’s head,” he said at the questioning looks being sent his way, before starting his interpretation of the guilt ridden eldest Winchester.  An hour later and Jeff had a date for filming and was relaxing with his now cold coffee.   
   
“So what do my boys look like?” Jeff asked of the table in general, not sure what made him ask.  It wasn’t as though he had any scenes with the other actors, he was simply curious.  Eric rifled through the folders in front of him and slid two photos across the table.  
   
“Top one is Jared Padalecki; he’ll be playing Sam, the youngest son,” Eric explained. “And the other is Dean.”  
   
Jeff picked up the first head shot picture and found himself unconsciously smiling back at the broad grin of his ‘youngest son’. Taking in the dimples, this Jared Padalecki - and that was a name and a half, Jeff thought - was flashing, Jeff knew he’d be a huge hit with the female fans. Picking up the other picture, all the air left Jeff’s lungs as he looked down at the picture of his ‘oldest’ son.  
   
Greens eyes, framed with sinfully long lashes stared back at him. Eyes that he had last seen filled with fear and pleading.  Eyes that had haunted his dreams forever.  The name at the bottom of the photograph caught his eye, and he knew.  This was his feeder. Jensen Ackles.  
   
Jeff wasn’t sure exactly how he got home that night. The drive from the studios to his house had passed in a blur and the vampire was thankful he hadn’t been involved in an accident injuring others.  Bisou was waiting inside the door, his girl pleased to see him as always and he knelt and made a fuss of her.  Grabbing a bottle of whiskey as he walked through the house, Jeff pushed open the patio doors and sat down heavily on the closest chair.  
   
Taking a deep drag straight from the bottle, Jeff lay back and stared unseeing at the blue, cloudless Californian sky. His mind’s eye seeing a gray, stormy sky between the rooftops of Philly, then going back further to a spring evening in New York. Tipping the bottle and drinking again, Jeff relaxed and let the memories he had kept at bay for so long flood back in.  
   
His mind played the images as though they had happened yesterday. Memories of having a quiet dinner with his family to celebrate his 25th birthday, of leaving his parents’ house for his room above the family carpentry workshop. The pain he had felt before his fangs came in rushed over him once more; the tight, vice like band that had constricted his breathing, how his senses had magnified to the point of being debilitating.  He rubbed an unconscious hand over his chest as if to ease the pain away.  
   
He recalled the smell of the sawdust in his father’s workshop just before he lost consciousness and the fear that he would not wake up, that he was dying.  The confusion at waking in a hotel room laid out on a fancy bed, as the vampire Count Alexander Dracula told him he was a vampire pounded in his mind and Jeff took a long drag of the whiskey to settle himself a little.  
   
He remembered listening as Alexander told him how a vampire came into his fangs on his 25th birthday. Jeff smiled as he remembered laughing at the older man, telling him that it wasn’t funny to joke about vampires.  There was a healthy distrust of the creatures brought over with the immigrants to the New World, and Jeff wanted no part of this.  
   
It had taken Dracula bringing in a young woman, the daughter of a vampire and feeder and Jeff watching in horror as Dracula had feed from her wrist. The hunger that bubbled inside him at the smell of the blood was like nothing Jeff had ever felt before.  The burning need to taste, to feed was nearly overwhelming and he had grabbed the offered wrist and licked greedily at the sustenance offered to him by the young woman.  
   
He had felt more alive as the first taste of blood settled inside of him than ever before. Jeff had listened intently as Dracula had explained that a vampire could survive on a few mouthfuls of blood every couple of weeks, but it was best to feed regularly.  
   
Jeff had listened closely as Dracula told him that the only thing to kill a vampire was a stake through the heart, and how every vampire would be drawn to one person – male or female – and how the blood of this person, a vampire’s feeder, would sustain them both for all eternity. That he would be drawn to his feeder by their scent.  Jeff recalled the pain and loneliness in Dracula’s eyes when he told the new vampire he was 400 years old this year, and he was still searching for his feeder.  
   
Images flashed by as if on fast forward – the excitement of going to California for the gold rush, and the joy at finding his first seam of gold. Starting a carpentry business with his brother, and watching it grow into a countrywide business. The terror of the years of the civil war; not knowing if his family was alive or not. The stench of death and decay that hung over the whole country.   
   
Overriding all of these memories was the constant vigilance and the never ending search for his feeder.

 

 **Philadelphia, August 1899**  
   
The scent was in the breeze again, illusive, almost gone.  But Jeff knew his feeder had been here.  He’d been catching traces of freshly cut grass and vanilla ever since arriving in Philadelphia, but no matter where he went, or how many streets he walked down he had yet to find them. The scent was strongest in the area between Schuylkill and Delaware Rivers, but he had found traces of it in other areas.  He had taken to walking the city, constantly searching.  
   
Jeff became obsessed, desperate to find his feeder.  He let his own well-being take a backseat, the burning desire to find the person with this scent driving all other thoughts from his mind. He had sent a telegram to Dracula telling him his feeder was here, but that he was becoming frustrated in his search.  
   
Dracula’s response had been short and terse - _Do not do anything stupid_. Jeff had snorted when he read it.  He had spent nearly 75 years searching for his feeder; he wasn’t going to mess it up when he eventually found them.  
   
The rain was pouring down, washing away the detritus and smells of a normal day, leaving everything clean and fresh.  Jeff enjoyed walking through the city during a downpour; he enjoyed the solitude it usually afforded him.  Turning onto Market Street Jeff stumbled as the scent hit him.  His feeder was close by, very close.  Scanning the street Jeff, spotted a female figure not far ahead.  She was the only person around; this had to be his feeder.  
   
Running quickly, the sound of the rain masking his approach, Jeff ran after the woman.  As he drew level with her, Jeff saw the woman was carrying a large basket of produce, and that she was heavily pregnant.  Feeling a little remorse for the fact that the child would grow not knowing his real father, Jeff reached out a grabbed a hold of an arm.  
   
The woman cried out and dropped her basket, vegetables spilling all over the sidewalk. She opened her mouth to scream, and Jeff automatically covered it with his other hand. She spoke to him from behind her hand, begging him not to hurt her baby. Jeff pushed her into the alleyway, and tried to reassure her.  
   
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I could never hurt you. You’re mine.”  
   
Giving in to the urge to taste her pale skin, Jeff bent and licked at her neck.  He shuddered as her scent enveloped him, and her taste spread through his body.  He was more aroused now than he had ever been in his life, and he couldn’t help pressing his erection against her.  
   
“Please, no,” she whispered, and it was easy for Jeff to realize just what she meant.  Revulsion that this woman, _his feeder_ , thought he would assault her settled in his gut, and he tried to calm her down.  The sound of her racing heart was loud in the silence of the alleyway, and Jeff tried to ease her fears again, as he easily subdued her struggles.  
   
“Shh, my sweet. Shh. Everything will be fine, don’t fight me, don’t fight this.” As he spoke, the need to feed became too much, and Jeff lowered his head and tasted her delicate skin once more.  His fangs erupted and he couldn't wait any longer. The overwhelming need to feed hit him and Jeff bit down.  
   
The first taste of his feeder’s blood was astonishing; it was everything he had expected and more.  He could feel his senses growing stronger, could feel the life force growing between them, the empty, lonely place inside of him was filling with the knowledge that he had finally found her.  
   
Jeff was so engrossed with feeding, with the all-encompassing sensations the taste of his feeder’s blood was awakening inside him, that he didn’t notice as she started to twist away from him. Everything that Dracula had told him; that a feeder would automatically recognize that the vampire meant them no harm, wasn’t happening.  And by the time Jeff was aware of this, it was too late.  
   
His feeder pulled back sharply, and Jeff felt her skin rip under his fangs.  The fear in her eyes brought Jeff back to himself completely and he let go of his grip on her shoulders. She automatically brought a hand to the wound on her neck, trying to stem the flow of blood as she staggered away from him, further into the alleyway.  
   
Fear started to bubble deep in his gut, and Jeff advanced, needing to stem the flow of her life’s blood before it became too much.  
   
“I can help, my love,” he pleaded, even as she collapsed to the ground.  
   
“Stay away from me,” she gasped, as she cradled her swollen belly. Her strength gave out, and she fell back on the garbage strewn ground.  
   
Jeff crashed to his knees in front of her prone body. Picking her body up, he cradled it close to his chest as guilt and remorse weighed down on him.  She was beyond saving, he knew.  Throwing his head back, letting the rain wash away his tears, Jeff cried out; a deep, keening cry that was ripped from the depths of his soul.  
   
Knowing that somebody would hear the cry and come investigating, Jeff lowered the still body of his feeder to the ground.  Wrapping a trembling hand around a bloody cheek, Jeff placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before standing and running as far and as fast as he could.  
   
He read the reports of the attack in the paper a few days later, and learned that his feeder had been Sarah Ackles, and that they had somehow saved her unborn child; the doctors being lauded for their innovative skills.  Jeff vowed to watch over Sarah’s baby from a distance, make sure the child was safe.  The horror he felt when he realized that the child’s father was training him to hunt vampires, kill the creatures that took his mother’s life, was only matched with Jeff’s self-loathing at causing Sarah’s death. Leaving the city the day after Frederick’s 10th birthday, Jeff returned to his family in New York.   
 

  
 **Los Angeles, February 2005**  
   
Jeff wiped angrily at the tears as they weaved a path down his face.  He hadn’t thought of Sarah and his part in her death for so long now.  The pain the memories brought was too much for him.  Bisou placed her head on his knee, offering comfort.  Running a hand over her soft head, Jeff smiled weakly.  
   
“Come on, girl. We have a feeder to woo,” he said. 

Bisou barked, the sound echoing over the hills surrounding his house.  Taking one last deep pull of the whiskey, he walked inside and picked up the phone.  He could already imagine exactly what advice Alexander would be offering when he shared the news that his feeder had returned.

  
   
 **Richardson, Texas    April 2005**  
   
Donna sipped happily at her coffee while she waited for her laptop to boot up.  She was hoping for an email from Jensen; today was the first day of filming for Supernatural and Donna wanted to know how things had gone.  Smiling to herself when she saw a message from Jensen, Donna sat back to learn about Dean and Sam Winchester.  
   
Alan pursed his lips as Donna told Mackenzie, Jensen’s younger sister, about the email. 

"... and he said that Jared is so tall, it makes him feel tiny standing next to him! He got to drive an old muscle car he said, it was black I think, but I can’t remember what he called it.  He and Jared were planning on going out for drinks after filming.....”  
   
Mackenzie laughed as her mother talked, looking forward to some sisterly teasing in the future.  She couldn’t wait to text her brother about being the short one for a change.  
   
Alan just sat quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Alan was proud of Jensen and all he’d achieved; Alan was justifiably proud of all his children. But the way Jensen had practically gushed about Jared in the email had a cold ball forming in his stomach.  Looking over Donna’s shoulder earlier, Alan had had to squash the slight feeling of nausea he felt at reading Jensen’s words.  
   
It was the same feeling Alan had felt as Jensen sat he and Donna down one night five years ago and told them that he was gay.  Donna had taken the announcement of Jensen’s homosexuality in her stride.  Jensen was her son, and nothing was ever going to change that.  But Alan had struggled to come to terms with the news. Even now, it was something that he could never bear to mention. And to Alan's deep regret, Jensen knew this.  
   
It didn’t change Alan’s feelings for Jensen in the least; in fact it probably made him worry about his middle son even more. But Alan knew the difficulties that Jensen could face in the acting profession if this piece of information became common knowledge.  And reading between the lines of Jensen’s email, and the way nearly every sentence in the missive contained Jared’s name, Alan knew that his son was attracted to the younger actor.  
   
Tuning back into the conversation between mother and daughter again, Alan snorted when he heard Donna still telling Mackenzie about the email.  
   
“Jensen said he hadn’t met Papa Winchester, as he called the man. That Jeffrey Dean Morgan was playing the man in the flashback,” Donna was saying. “But he doesn’t think they’ll meet this time around because they have no filming together.”  
   
Alan picked up his coffee cup and refilled it, automatically topping Donna’s cup as he went.  Pointing towards the study, he wandered away, trying to get his feelings in order before he next spoke to Jensen.  
 

  
 **Los Angeles, May 2005**  
   
The call from his agent that the producers of Supernatural wanted to see him fed the excitement Jensen had felt during the filming of the pilot running through his veins.  He had never felt as keyed up about a project as this one, and he just knew that it was good news.  They’d never have called them into the studio to say _sorry, better luck next time_.  Jensen was honest enough with himself to know that a lot of the excitement was due to the young man currently scrabbling around on the floor trying to find the cell phone he’d dropped for the third time.  
   
Jensen laughed out loud as Jared banged his head on the table he was crawling under trying to retrieve his cell, the laughter growing as his on-screen brother emerged rubbing at a spot on his head as he sat back down and glaring at Jensen who just laughed even more.  
   
The sound of the door opening had them both standing and turning to greet the production team.  After shaking hands, they all sat down and Eric started the proceedings.  Smiling widely, his own excitement plainly visible, he announced to no-one’s surprise – “We’ve been picked up!”  
   
Jared’s loud whoop in Jensen’s ear was followed closely be the extra-long arms being wrapped around him.  Eric grinned around the table at Jared’s infectious behavior and waited a few moments before starting to go into details.  
   
Jensen was fine with filming in Vancouver, again.  The city was almost a second home for him now, but he readily admitted to anyone who asked that he would never get used to the cold of the north. Texas was cold sometimes, but Vancouver was freezing.  
   
A quiet tap at the door interrupted the creator of the show, and he stood and welcomed the late entrant.  Jensen glanced around as the newcomer greeted Eric and the others, before sitting in the chair opposite him.  Later, he would swear that time slowed until it nearly stopped. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the deep hazel eyes boring into his own. Dragging a breath into starved lungs, Jensen tuned back in to hear Eric introduce the older man.  
   
“Guys, this is Jeff Morgan. I thought it’d be a good idea for you to meet as you didn’t during filming last time. He’ll be playing John Winchester in the series so you boys better behave yourselves,” Eric said, grinning.  
   
Jared just laughed and bumped against Jensen, breaking the spell Jeff’s gaze seemed to have trapped him in.  “Welcome to the family, Dad,” Jared joked, as Jensen sat stunned by his side.  
   
Jeff sat at the table desperately trying to hide the way his body was trembling. The smell of his feeder surrounded him, seeped into his pores and Jeff fought for control. His primal instinct was to lower his fangs into the vulnerable skin at Jensen’s neck and drink deeply from the man, as _MINE_ screamed through his mind. But he didn’t dare.  He would not have history repeating itself.  
   
Things would be different this time around. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Vancouver, July 2005**  
   
Filming of Supernatural had started in Vancouver, the first episode was finished and Jensen thought back over the last couple of weeks of hard work as he drove to the bar.  The crew had unanimously decided that that meant a night out to celebrate, so Jensen was headed to the bar to meet with everybody.  
   
His thoughts were centered on Jared and how they seemed to just _click_ on meeting. Whether it was the Texas angle, or the similarities in their backgrounds, Jensen wasn’t sure.  He just knew that he enjoyed spending time with his co-star, and could relax and truly be himself with Jared.  Not something he had ever had when filming a show before. And Jensen knew, if he was being honest, he’d never felt this instant an attraction with anybody before.  He studiously ignored the little voice in the back of his head that was whispering Jeff’s name on a constant loop.  
   
Walking into the bar ten minutes later, Jensen spotted Jared in a booth at the back, talking on his cellphone. Catching his eye, Jensen pointed at the bar, smiling when Jared nodded.  Stopping to chat to some of the crew after he’d gotten their drinks, Jensen waited until Jared closed his cell before heading over to the booth.  Knowing it was probably a call from Sandy, Jensen had wanted to give Jared some privacy. And he hadn’t really wanted to hear the two lovebirds talking.  
   
Jared smiled as Jensen placed the beer on the table and sat down.  “Mom says hi,” Jared said in lieu of a greeting of his own.  Any time either of them spoke to their families, a greeting to their co-star was always included, another reason they seemed to get on so well, Jensen thought.  
   
“Everything OK at home?” Jensen asked at the slightly weird look on Jared’s face.  
   
“Oh, yeah.” Jared laughed. “Mom was just telling me that our neighbors came round over the weekend with some BIG news for her and Pops.”  
   
“The ones you baby-sat for or the ones whose daughter you got caught making out with in the tree-house at the 4th July barbeque?” Jensen asked, grinning widely as Jared blushed.  
   
“The baby-sitting ones,” Jared mumbled around his bottle as he took a drink.  
   
“Well?” Jensen prompted when Jared just sat there.  
   
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Jared started.  “They’re vampires. Well he is, she’s his feeder obviously.”  
   
Jensen choked as his mouthful of beer went down the wrong way. “Dude, a vampire? That sucks.”   
   
Jared looked at his friend curiously. “Why would it suck?” he asked.  
   
“Well, you know, not exactly prime neighborly material are they?” Jensen said.  
   
The look Jared leveled at him confused Jensen. “What?” he asked when Jared didn’t say anything.  
   
“What have you got against vampires?” Jared asked curiously. “The Mitchells are awesome; we used to have pool parties there every summer. Mrs. Mitchell always bakes the most amazing brownies for me when I go home. Mr. Mitchell used to help me with my math homework – he’s deputy head of the Math and Computer Science department at San Antonio College. The kids were brats, but most kids are when you babysit them.” Jared laughed. “They’re just a typical Texan family.”  
   
Jensen fiddled with the label on his bottle while Jared was talking.  This didn’t sound like the things he heard his family talking about, well his dad’s family anyway.  But it was what Jensen had grown up hearing.  
   
“We all went over for their 25th anniversary last year; they renewed their vows.  Mom and Megan cried through the whole ceremony. It was obvious how much they love each other,” Jared finished.  
   
Jensen took a mouthful of beer.  This picture of domestic bliss, and a loving relationship was totally at odds with the picture his grandpa painted of vampires.  To Grandpa Ackles, vampires were blood crazed monsters, who killed their victims and threw the bloody husk away like a piece of garbage when it had been drained.  
   
Jensen knew this wasn’t always the case, and that his grandpa had a twisted view of the creatures. But even Jared couldn’t deny that deaths from vampire feedings were in the news with enough regularity that most news stations had dedicated vampire reporters.  
   
“It’s just that my family doesn’t think very highly of vampires,” Jensen tried to explain. “My great-great grandmother was murdered by a vampire when she was pregnant.  They only just saved the baby – my great-grandpa Ackles.”  
   
Jared looked shocked at that piece of information.   
   
Jensen snorted at a sudden thought. “My dad’s family wasn’t too happy when I came out, Dad still won’t talk to me about it. But I think he’d disown me completely if I bought a vampire home.”  
   
“What’s your mom think about it all?” Jared asked, not being able to imagine the Donna Ackles he spoke to nearly as often as his own mom letting any kind of prejudice in her home, or letting it influence her children.  
   
Jensen stared at his empty bottle, rolling it on the table between his hands.  “It’s pretty much the only thing Mom and Dad disagree on,” he started to explain. “Mom’s all for free thinking and judging a person on their actions and deeds, and Dad’s fine with that, until anybody mentions vampires.”   
   
Lifting his head to look at Jared, Jensen continued, “His family hates vampires, I mean really, really, _really_ hates – plunging stakes through the heart – hates vampires.  Dad’s nowhere near as bad as his dad and uncles, he just doesn’t have anything to do with vampires, or anybody associated with them. But he definitely wouldn’t welcome one into the family with open arms.”  
   
Jared looked on in amazement.  He’d never met anybody with that kind of hate in their family before, and wasn’t something he’d ever thought about. “Must have made family gatherings fun,” he said.  
   
Jensen snorted. “You have no idea. When we got older, Mom and Dad stopped going, said it was too far to travel and there wasn’t enough room at Grandpa Ackles for all the kids and grand kids to stay. He didn’t like it, but never said anything. Well, not to my mom that I know of. He and Grandma Ackles would come to us the weekend before or after.”  
   
Jared signaled a passing waiter for more beers, as Jensen carried on.   
   
“The only real argument I ever remember my folks having was about going to Grandpa’s for Thanksgiving 1989.  They’d just passed the vampire equal rights bill, and Dad’s family was going ape-shit. They lobbied everybody; senators, governors, fuck, even the president.  They organized groups to stalk vampires and their families, harass them. I’m pretty sure there was property damage involved, and if they hadn’t been so well known as a vampire hating family that they’d have started hunting again.”  
   
Jared chocked on his mouthful of beer. “Hunting?!? You’re saying that your dad killed vampires?” he spluttered.  
   
Jensen shook his head, a haunted look on his face. “Not Dad, but his dad and uncles did. Me and Josh were sitting on the stairs, huddled together, terrified as we watched Mom pacing up and down in the living room yelling at Dad, saying that there was no way she was ever letting her children into the same room as a bunch of murderers again, and Dad saying that it was only vampires so it didn’t really count as murder, but that they hadn’t hunted since the ‘50’s.”  
   
Looking Jared in the eye, Jensen finished, “So that’s when we stopped going to any Ackles family get together, and having anything to do with Dad’s family at all.  Dad would occasionally go visit on his own, and Mom would be really quiet the whole time he was away.  Then he’d come home, and everything would be fine again.” Sighing wearily, Jensen ran a hand over his face before continuing, “So there you go, the reason vampires don’t exactly have a glowing reputation in our house, man.”  
   
“Is that how you feel about vampires?” Jared asked quietly when it became obvious that Jensen had finished talking.  
   
“No,” Jensen shook his head slowly. “It’s just, I mean, Mom always told us to judge a person by their actions, not what they are.  But we never had anything to do with vampires when we were growing up, so it’s easy to buy into the only views you’re given of them, even if they’re as twisted as the older Ackles ones are.”  
   
Back in his hotel room later on, Jensen lay on his bed propped up against the headboard, coffee on the nightstand, and laptop open.  His fingers hovered over the keys as he hesitated.  Thinking how ridiculous it was to be nervous about searching the ‘net for information, he typed ‘vampires’ into the search engine, and sipped his coffee as Google worked its magic.  
   
0.14 seconds later there were over 69,100,000 results, and Jensen was grateful that it was a Friday night and they weren’t on set until late Monday afternoon.  Clicking on the first link, to the Wikipedia page for vampires, Jensen settled in for a long weekend of reading.  
 

Monday arrived and Jensen was still as conflicted as ever. He’d spent hours surfing the ‘net and found so much contradictory information that he’d given up sometime late on Saturday evening.  After a fitful night's sleep, he’d given in and called his parents Sunday afternoon, something he’d been hoping to avoid.  
   
Speaking to his mom always helped put things into perspective he found, but this time it was his father that he wanted to talk to. After chatting with Donna for a few minutes, Jensen spoke with Alan and found he was reluctant to talk about the family history beyond anything Jensen already knew.  He did add, though, that if Jensen could make it home for Thanksgiving this year, he’d let Jensen read his great-grandfather’s journals.  Because maybe after reading them he would understand why his family acted the way they did, even if he could never condone it.   
   
Jensen gratefully accepted the coffee Shannon, his make-up artist, handed him as he settled in the chair and relaxed while she worked on turning him into Dean for the rest of the day. He studiously ignored her muttered comments about maybe sleeping on the weekends for a change as she started to hide the dark smudges under his eyes.  
 

  
 **Los Angeles, August 2005**  
   
Jeffrey Dean Morgan sat on the balcony outside his bedroom, looking out over his garden and the lights of the city spread out below.  He loved living in LA; the city always felt like a living entity to him. He had accumulated a small fortune over his long life time, and he had indulged himself when he settled in Los Angeles in the 1920s, sparing no expense on his living arrangements.  His house was high in the Verdugo Mountains over-looking the city, and he had watched in fascination as the city grew bigger with each passing year.  
   
He was absentmindedly running a hand over Bisou’s head, scratching behind her ears as she snuffled quietly in her sleep, her body a welcome warmth pressed against the vampire’s side. He mulled over the ideas he had come up with, and discarded so far - one ludicrous plan after another in his attempt to woo his feeder.  Scratching at Bisou’s head one last time, Jeffrey stood up and walked back inside.  
   
This time, he knew he wouldn’t rush in; he would get to know Jensen first.  Learn about his feeder’s likes and dislikes, all Jensen’s hopes and fears. And then when he admitted what he was, hopefully Jensen wouldn’t run for the hills, especially with the part Jeffrey had played in Sarah’s death.  
   
Calling Bisou in, Jeffrey shut the balcony doors and closed the drapes.  He’d email Eric Kripke in the morning, see if Papa Winchester was needed anytime soon, and check on his Canadian friends as well, see if they had any news, maybe go visit for a few days. Then hopefully his long wait would _finally_ be over.

 **Vancouver, October 2005**  
   
“I know Sandy’s coming up to visit Jared. Any plans for the weekend without your shadow?” Shannon asked as she applied the final touches to Jensen’s make-up.   
   
“Apart from sleep?” Jensen replied with a grin, ducking as Shannon swatted lightly at the back of his head.  
   
“You know what I mean,” she said in exasperation.  
   
“No, Shannon.  I don’t have any plans for Canadian Thanksgiving this weekend,” Jensen responded dutifully.  
   
“Well, you do now.” Jensen looked at her in the mirror.  “You’re coming to mine and Karl’s for dinner Sunday. We always have to go visit family on Monday, so we invite all the waifs and strays for dinner on the Sunday. So just say _thank you, Shannon_ and turn up.”  
   
“Waifs and strays!” Jensen spluttered as Shannon patted his shoulder to let him know he was finished.  
   
Sighing, knowing it was useless to argue, Jensen flashed a saccharine sweet smile over his shoulder “Thank you, Shannon, for inviting me. What time should I arrive, Shannon? Can I bring anything, Shannon?”  
   
Shannon laughed as she shooed him out onto set.  Pausing as Jensen turned and smiled at her, “Thanks, Shannon,” he said sincerely this time.  
   
Shannon smiled and watched as the actor walked off.  Karl, her husband and vampire of the past 67 years walked over, glancing inside the make-up trailer to make sure it was empty.  
   
“He say yes?” Karl asked as they walked inside.  
   
“Of course,” Shannon said indignantly. “As if there was ever any doubt.”  
   
“Of course not, darling. I’ll let Jeff know tonight that Jensen will be there as well,” Karl said as he ran a gentle finger over Shannon’s collar bone.  “May I feed, my love?”  
   
Shannon smiled softly at her vampire.  Lifting her chin as she stepped into Karl’s embrace, she said, “Yes.”  
   
Karl placed a soft kiss on her upturned lips before biting into Shannon’s jugular and drinking down the sweet life sustaining blood of his feeder.  
 

   
Four days later found Jensen standing awkwardly with flowers and bottles of wine as he waited for the door to open.  He looked around, taking in the views over the water, and found himself slightly surprised that a make-up artist and a set carpenter could afford a house in Point Grey.  He was nervous and had no idea why; it was Shannon and Karl for pity’s sake.  Giving himself a mental slap to the back of the head, he turned and smiled as the door opened.  
   
In the kitchen, Karl placed a calming hand on Jeff’s shoulder, squeezing lightly as Jensen’s scent drifted in through the house.  Jeff looked over his shoulder and smiled tightly at his friend.  He wasn’t a young vampire, desperate to find their feeder anymore; he could do this. He could sit in the same room as Jensen and not pounce on him.  He could.  
   
“It’ll be OK,” Karl said quietly before he moved to greet Jensen.  
   
Shannon was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, and a couple of bottles of wine and ushering their guest into the room.  Karl shook hands with Jensen and then turned to make the introductions.  
   
“Jensen, you’ve met Jeff Morgan haven’t you? Or Papa Winchester as you and Jared call him!” Karl grinned as Jensen nodded and smiled widely before sitting down next to Jeff as he grinned back.  
   
“Good to see you again,” Jensen said. “Can’t wait to actually film with you.”  
   
Jeff took the hand that Jensen offered, knowing it would sorely test his already taxed restraint. The sweet smell of cut grass and vanilla washed over Jeff and sank into every pore. It took all his strength not to push Jensen to the floor and sink his teeth into the young man and drink his fill.  
   
Taking a deep breath, Jeff answered, “Yeah, Kim mentioned you young’uns need an old hand to keep you in line.”  
   
Jensen threw his head back and laughed out loud; the pranks that Jared had _persuaded_ him to help set up were fast becoming the stuff of legend, and Kim Manners was always threatening to get _them_ back.  
   
“Kim’s brilliant, man, really brilliant.” Jensen laughed as he started explaining about the latest prank war Jared had initiated on set.  Jeff relaxed back in his seat, letting Jensen’s voice wash over him.  He felt something settle deep inside, just by having his feeder close by.  Jeff smiled at Shannon as she placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of him, running a hand through his hair as she gave Jensen his own cup.  
   
It was unusual for him to feel this at ease with anybody new, and Jensen found himself relaxing and enjoying the afternoon. He and Jeff talked almost non-stop, swapping casting room horror stories that had Shannon and Karl crying with laughter.  Jensen was surprised to find the older man had a sense of humor similar to his own, and had similar values as well.  He studiously ignored the spike of attraction he felt towards Jeff, pushing it into a corner along with his feelings for Jared.  
   
They’d talked about LA, and Jeff put out an invitation to them all to spend some time at his house over New Year's.  Jensen was surprised to find himself actually thinking about going. He wasn’t normally this relaxed so quickly, in fact the only person Jensen had ever felt like this with was Jared. And Jensen refused to read too much into his feelings for either man, plenty of time to dwell on his attraction later on when he was alone.  
   
When Shannon called them into the dining room, Jensen was surprised to see that nearly two hours had passed. Taking the wine from Karl so he could help Shannon carry in the food, Jensen was surprised at the spread.  He’d expected food similar to Thanksgiving fare in the US – roast turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce and green bean casserole. But this was definitely not that. In the serving dishes were a stew of some kind, what looked like creamed potatoes and cabbage.  A plate of bread sat nestled amongst the other dishes.  
   
Looking at Shannon, Jensen joked, “Not going with traditional Thanksgiving food then?” He smiled his thanks as Karl poured some wine into his glass.  
   
Shannon laughed as Jeff held her chair out for her.  “This _is_ traditional food Jensen - traditional food from my home country. You have Irish stew, champ, braised cabbage,” Shannon pointed to each dish as she told them what was what, “and wheaten bread to soak up the gravy.”  
   
“You’re Irish?”  
   
“Sit, eat, and over dessert I’ll tell you a story of a young girl from Jamestown, on the bank of the River Shannon,” she said as they all started to eat. Jensen ate the delicious stew, the meat melting in his mouth, the champ was light and buttery and the cabbage was unlike any cabbage Jensen’s mom had ever served, and Shannon refused to divulge the secret ingredient.  Jensen laughed as Karl and Jeff mopped up the tangy gravy left on their plates with the wheaten bread, and followed suit, not wanting to leave any of the amazing meal.  
   
They cleared the plates between them, and carried the bowls of Irish coffee pudding, and the coffee pot into the living room.  A fire was burning in the grate, and the curtains were open, showing the stunning view over the water below, the city lights chasing back the approaching darkness.  
   
When they all had dessert and coffee, Shannon sat back and relaxed into her husband’s side before starting her story.  
   
“I was born in a small cottage, literally on the banks of the Shannon, hence my name, to Declan and Orla Flynn, on the 7th July 1900.” Shannon paused, waiting for the dates to register with Jensen.  
   
When they did, Jensen blamed the excellent food and wine for being slow in catching on. He looked between the other three and they all looked back at him steadily, no pretense on any of their faces.  
   
“You’re over a hundred years old?!?” Jensen said, voice higher than he would ever admit to it being.  
   
Shannon nodded and moved to sit next to Jensen on the sofa.  Taking his hand, she squeezed gently. “I’m a feeder, Jensen, and Karl is my vampire.  He was born in Hamburg in 1868. He found me in New York in 1921.  My family came over to escape the troubles in Ireland.  My father wanted nothing to do with it, and saw America as a new start for all of us.”  
   
“I came over with my family to escape the cholera epidemic spreading through the city,” Karl explained. “My sister died, and two of her children, so my father brought his plans forward a year; he and my mother had planned to emigrate to America the following year when they had saved some more money.”  
   
“What about your girls?” Jensen asked.  Shannon was always talking about their daughters.  
   
“They’re real - just a little older than you expect.  The oldest was born in 1924, then 1927 and 1930.  They all have grandchildren of their own and, in Margaret’s case, a great-grandchild.”  
   
“Not all feeders are women, but when they are and the woman is able to, she can conceive on three anniversaries of becoming a feeder, the third, sixth and ninth. Not all couples choose to have children. The pain of watching your child die is more than some vampires can stand. Others find it a comfort to know that they will always be able to look out for their family,” Karl said. “We wanted to be able to watch over our children for generations to come.”  
   
Jensen knew he had a stunned expression on his face. Looking between the two, Jensen jumped slightly when Jeff cleared his throat.  Turning his head, Jensen caught Jeff’s eye.  
   
“You knew about this?” he asked.  
   
Jeff nodded. “I’ve known Karl a long time. We met when he came over from Germany. I helped him come to terms with being a vampire when his fangs came in.”  
   
“Wait, what?! You’re a vampire too?” Jensen said.  Jeff’s nod was short and abrupt. “How old are you then?” he asked.  
   
“205 - I was born in 1801 in New York.  My folks had emigrated from England a couple of years before.”  
   
Jensen suddenly felt restless, the need to move overpowering, so he stood and started pacing around the living room, thoughts racing through his mind. This was too much.  How could these people be vampires? He _liked_ Shannon.  Really liked her; she mothered him and Jared.  Running a hand over the back of his neck, he stopped pacing and stared out of the window, unseeing, his thoughts in turmoil.  
   
After a while, Shannon walked over a touched his arm gently.  “You OK?” she asked quietly.  
   
Jensen laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, yeah, I’m just fine.”  
   
“Come sit down, finish your coffee.”  
   
Sitting down again, Jensen picked up his coffee, grimacing at the first taste of the cold brew.  
   
“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Karl said. Shannon followed her husband into the kitchen, leaving Jensen and Jeff alone.  
   
“There’s more isn’t there?” Jensen asked when Jeff just stared at him.  
   
Jeff nodded.  “Finish your coffee and we’ll go back to your hotel and talk.”  
   
Leaving a little while later, Jensen hugged Shannon tight. 

“I’m sorry we dropped it on you like that,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. We just wanted you to know.”  
   
“I know, Shannon. It’s fine, honest,” Jensen said as he stepped back. “Thank you, for being honest, for telling me.”  
   
Waving at Karl over Shannon’s shoulder, Jensen walked to his car. Jeff had left a few minutes ago, and would be meeting Jensen at his hotel shortly. Jensen took the drive to gather his thoughts.  He had a feeling that whatever Jeff was going to tell him, he’d need to be alert.

 **Vancouver, October 2005**  
   
The knock at his hotel room door came as a relief to Jensen.  He’d been on edge since Jeff has said he needed to talk to Jensen, and the waiting was just making it worse.  Opening the door, Jensen stepped back to let the vampire in and closed the door with a soft snick.  
   
Jeff stood a few paces into the suite of rooms Jensen had, and waited for his feeder to move around him.  
   
“Coffee, or something stronger?” Jensen asked as he touched Jeff gently on the back, indicating he should take a seat on the sofa.  
   
Jeff felt the touch like a brand and every muscle in his body tensed.  He moved stiffly to the sofa before answering. “Coffee please, though you may need something a bit stronger later.”  
   
Jensen nodded and poured them both cups, placing them on the coffee table before taking a seat in the chair opposite Jeff.  
   
Jeff sat forward on the sofa, hands clasped between his knees.  He'd taken the time on the drive to the hotel to figure out how to tell Jensen about his past. Things were moving a lot quicker than he had planned, but he decided that maybe for the best. He looked at Jensen intently, trying to decide which was the best place to start.  
   
“I normally find starting at the beginning is the best.” A voice cut into his inner ramblings, and Jeff looked startled.   
   
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Jeff queried. Jensen grinned and nodded. Grinning back, Jeff took a mouthful of his coffee, and started his tale.  
   
“I was born in New York, in 1801. I had a normal childhood for the time. My parents were from England; my father was a carpenter, my mother a weaver.  They came over to show the colonials how to build and operate the new machinery that was part of the industrial revolution.  And never went back.  I had four brothers and three sisters, but only two of each survived to the age of eight.”  
   
Jensen watched as Jeff relaxed slightly and sat back on the sofa, taking his coffee with him before continuing.  
   
“I apprenticed to my father, everybody needs table and chairs and beds, he always reasoned, so it was a good trade to learn.  He could make the most mundane piece of furniture into a work of art.” Jeff said, proudly.  
   
Jensen smiled at the look on Jeff’s face, and nearly said he’d like to meet the man and see some of his furniture, before remembering that Jeff’s father must have died over a 150 years ago.  
   
“I’d heard of vampires, who hadn’t.  Most people knew the folklore about them; blood thirsty killers, draining bodies, hunting with total disregard to the consequences. Impossible to kill, deathly afraid of garlic, holy water and sacred ground. I learned after coming into my fangs on my 25th birthday that none of that was true.”  
   
“So, vampires don’t come into their fangs until they're 25?” Jensen asked.  
   
“No, and they don’t have clue that they’re vampires before then. I‘d felt off all day, but had eaten a birthday dinner with my family.  I was walking home to my rooms above father’s workshop, when the pains started.  It was like nothing I’d ever felt before.  I collapsed in the workshop, a tight band was going around my chest, squeezing so hard I could barely move; every breathe burned and I really thought I was dying.  I was lucky that a vampire heard me screaming in pain and knew what was happening.”

Jensen watched as Jeff rubbed unconsciously at his chest.  
   
“I woke up in a hotel room, listening to this complete stranger tell me I was pretty much immortal and would need to drink human blood to survive and function properly.” Jeff drained his coffee cup and placed it back on the coffee table. Looking at Jensen’s rapt face, he started again.  
   
“Alexander taught me how to feed from a human without taking too much blood, how the pain of watching my immediate family was tempered by being able to watch over their children, and their childrens children for eternity. And I learned about my feeder.” Jeff paused at this, waiting to see if Jensen would react in anyway. When he didn’t, Jeff walked over to the room’s bar and poured them both a large glass of whiskey.  
   
Handing Jensen his as he walked past, Jeff took his seat again.  
   
“I learned that even though a vampire is pretty much immortal, without their feeder they will age slowly, it’s been calculated at about a year a century since then but Alexander didn’t know that at the time. But with their feeder, a vampire, and the feeder, will be immortal.  They will both stop aging when they reach their forties, unless the feeder has already passed that age, in which case they stop aging straight away.”  
   
“What happens to a feeder if their vampire is killed?” Jensen asked, intrigued by the story so far.  
   
“They die in their sleep the night after.” Jeff answered. Jensen nodded and took a sip of whiskey as he waited for Jeff to continue.  
   
Knowing this was the part that was going to be the most painful to re-tell, Jeff waited a few minutes, wanting to enjoy being in the presence of his feeder while he still looked at him without hatred in his eyes. When Jensen shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, Jeff started talking again.  His voice quieter than before, more strained and Jensen wondered what Jeff was going to tell him.  
   
“I searched everywhere I went for my feeder.  Alexander said I would recognize them by their scent.  All my senses became stronger, more intense when I came into my fangs, but my sense of smell was the strongest.  Probably because of the need to search for my feeder I suppose.  Anyway, I traveled all over the country, every state, constantly searching.  Some vampires are lucky and find their feeder within the first twenty years, others spend centuries.  Alexander searched for over 400 years before finding his feeder when the man visited his castle in Transylvania. I-“  
   
“Wait, wait,” Jensen  interrupted, “did you say Transylvania? As in home of Count Dracula, Transylvania?”  
   
“Yeah,” Jeff said, “Count Alexander Dracula was my mentor, still is actually.”  He smiled at the memories of his friend and all the help, wanted and unwanted, that had been given over the years.  
   
“Huh.” Jensen said.  
   
“Anyway, I usually spent a couple of years in each place, wandering round, setting up a carpentry workshop to add to the rest, but always searching for my feeder. I moved to Philadelphia in 1898, and within weeks had smelt traces of fresh cut grass and vanilla.  My feeder was somewhere in the city, and I just had to find them.”  
   
Jensen had tensed at the mention of Philadelphia at the turn of the 20th century, and Jeff realized he must know some of his family history.  Taking a deep breath, he carried on.  
   
“I walked everywhere, covered every square inch of the city. But the scent was always illusive, just out of reach.  I went a little bit crazy I think.  Constantly having this little piece of my feeder tantalizing my senses, but never quite enough to satisfy my craving for them.  I was walking around one night, I remember it was raining, pouring down and the streets were pretty much deserted. Turning a corner into Market Street, the scent hit. It was so strong it nearly overpowered me. I looked around and up ahead was a woman, heavily pregnant and carrying a basket of vegetables.”  
   
Jensen stood up, he knew what was coming, had known on some level when Jeff said Philadelphia.  He moved to the kitchen area, leaning both arms on the sink and bowing his head.  _I’m wrong,_ he thought desperately, _please let me be wrong_.  
   
“She was beautiful, blonde hair, gorgeous green eyes. And her scent. _Oh Lord her scent._ It was like coming home.  I was out of my mind, went too fast and scared her.  She pulled away from me whilst I was feeding off her.  My fangs were still buried in her throat, and when she pulled away they ripped her jugular.  I held her in my arms as she bled out. 

“I read in the paper a couple of days later that they’d somehow saved the baby, an emergency cesarean section – cutting edge medicine back then – but Sarah Ackles had died.” Jeff knocked the rest of his whiskey back in one go, needing the burn after telling Jensen everything.  
   
Jensen stood in the kitchen area, unmoving.  Back tense and rigid.  
   
“Jensen, look at me, please.” Jeff tried to get his feeder turn around, but he wouldn’t.

“Is that all?” Jensen asked, voice rough.  
   
“Turn around, please.” Jeff asked again, looking Jensen in the eye when he slowly, reluctantly turned around to face him.  
   
“No, it’s not. I lost it.  How I didn’t go off the deep end and just kill everybody in sight I’ll never know.  I came back to myself a couple of months later, back in New York with no idea how I’d gotten there.  I met Karl when he came into his fangs years later, helped him explain things to Shannon, and have been friends with them ever since. And I started searching for my feeder again.”  
   
“It’s me, isn’t it? I’m your feeder.” Jensen asked when the silence stretched out between them.  “Everybody who’s seen a photograph of her says I have Sarah’s eyes.”  
   
Jeff reached out a hand, but let it drop when Jensen backed away.  
   
“I never meant to hurt her Jensen, but it was too much. The taste of her, it overpowered all my reasoning and I ignored that she was frightened. Hell, she was scared witless; pleading with me not to hurt her baby, and I just kept on feeding.”  
   
“So what happens now? Will you just push me up against a wall and feed whether I say yes or not?” Jensen demanded angrily.  
   
“No. If you don’t give your consent, I’ll walk away.”  
   
“And I’m supposed to trust the word of a killer?”  
   
Jeff sat down at the breakfast bar wearily, feeling every one of his 200 years like a crushing weight on his shoulders.  
   
“If you don’t consent to becoming my feeder willingly, of your own volition, I will walk away from here and never contact you again. When you die, I'll start looking for my feeder again, and hope that this time I’ll be able to make things right.”  
   
“What about Supernatural? Breaking your contract could cost you a small fortune.” Jensen said.  
   
“I’ll leave that in the hands of my lawyers. It’s what I pay them for.” Jeff replied, voice low and tired sounding.  
   
Jensen leaned back against the counter-top, his thoughts in turmoil. His mother made sure that they were open minded. But he had still listened to family tales of killer vampires, and the one that stole Sarah Ackles life in particular. He hadn’t been able to avoid them when visiting with his Grandpa, and Great-Grandpa over the years. But what he learned of Sarah’s killer didn’t mesh with what his instincts were telling him about Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

“I should go.” Jeff said after a long silence. He placed a business card on the coffee table. “Here’s my cell and home numbers. If you need to ask anything, _anything_ Jensen, call me. No matter the time.”

Jeff stood and walked to the door, “I never meant to hurt her, and would have given anything to change the events of that night, until I met you.”

Jensen stared at the closed door, still feeling Jeff’s presence in the room. Walking to the bar, he picked the bottle of whiskey up and drank deeply. When the room started to spin, he made his way unsteadily to the bedroom. Sprawling on the bed he closed his eyes and let oblivion claim him.

The sound of his cell ringing felt like a drill going off inside his head the next morning, and Jensen groped around on his night-stand, switched the offending item off, and collapsed back on his pillow, all without opening his eyes. Ten minutes later, the room phone started ringing. Jensen ignored that as well.

But when the pounding in his head became the backdrop to the pounding of his suite door, he knew he had to get up. Prying his eyes half-open made Jensen vow to never fall asleep with his contacts in again. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he stumbled towards the door, muttering under his breath.

Opening the door, he turned around and made his way to the sofa before collapsing on it, not bothering to check who was there. Nobody else was as persistent as Jared Padalecki.

“Oh, Jensen.” Jared’s voice felt like sandpaper to his brain, and he picked up a throw cushion and tried to smother himself with it.

The welcome sound of his coffee pot brewing finally drew Jensen from behind his make shift barricade, and he slowly eased himself up. Jared stood talking quietly on his cell in the kitchen area. With an understanding look in Jensen’s direction, he finished his call and hung up.

“Jeff called-“ Jensen cleared his throat when all that came out was a croak. “Jeff called you I suppose.” He said, voice still wrecked.

“Shannon. She said you might need a friend. What the hell is going on Jensen?”

Jensen snorted derisively as he looked at the man he was steadily coming to think of as his best friend. He picked up his coffee and drank it as though it was the elixir if life, before saying – “I’ve just found out that a man I was attracted to is a vampire. That I’m his feeder and am being offered immortality, oh and that he murdered my great-great-grandmother setting my family on a century long hatred of vampires.”

Jared sat down heavily next to him, wrapping an arm around his suddenly shaking friend and pulling him into a tight hug. He knew what this news must be doing to Jensen and he tried to offer what small measure of comfort he could. When Jensen’s shaking had subsided, Jared pulled away and stood up, bringing Jensen with him.

“Shower, and I’ll get some food. Then we’ll talk, you can tell me everything.” Jared said.

“Where’s Sandy?” Jensen asked as he walked towards his bedroom.

“Catching an earlier flight back to LA.” Jared said, he held up a hand when Jensen started to protest. “It’s not a problem, man. I’ll see her at home in a couple of weeks anyway, then Christmas hiatus is right after that. She’ll get to spend so much time with me, she’ll be sick of the sight of me.” He joked, “Though how anybody can be sick of this beautiful face, I’ll never know.” Jared laughed at himself as he preened in front of the mirror.

“In your dreams, Sasquatch.” Jensen shouted back as he walked into the bathroom. A shower sounded good, not so much the food. Then he’d try and make some sense of all this.

Two hours later they were sat back on the sofa and Jared was staring at Jensen as though he had two heads.

“So Jeff is the vampire that killed Sarah Ackles? And you’re his feeder?” Jensen nodded as Jared continued, “and he swears he won’t come near you unless you say yes?” Jensen nodded again. “Do you think you can trust him to do that? It’s got to be hard for him, dude, knowing where you are but not doing anything about it. I mean, it could be hundreds of years before he finds his feeder again.”

“I, uh, I don’t know what I think.” Jensen closed his eyes tiredly as he rested his head on the back of the sofa. His thoughts and feelings were so conflicted, he felt as though he were being buffeted on all sides by a hurricane. He sighed quietly as he felt Jared’s hand softly running through his hair, stilling his thoughts and grounding him. A spark of arousal flared up at the touch, but he ignored it. He was getting very good at ignoring things these days.

“Jensen?” Jared’s voice was quiet, intense.

Knowing he should move away from the touch, but needing it’s comfort for a few seconds longer, Jensen stayed where he was. Jared shifted closer and kept on with the gentle combing of his fingers through Jensen’s hair, and Jensen felt himself relaxing and falling asleep.

It was dark when he woke up, but he could hear the sound of the TV coming from his bedroom. Jared’s quiet laughter had Jensen getting up and moving to the doorway.

“Hey.”

Jared looked away from the TV, grinning as he took in Jensen’s rumpled state, and his hair sticking up on one side.

“Diggin' the new look, dude.” Jared laughed as Jensen flipped him the bird on the way to the bathroom. When Jensen came back out the bedroom was empty and the smell of food and coffee told him that Jared had ordered up. His friend waved him over to the table and they sat eating the burgers and fries room service had delivered and drinking the sodas, for which Jensen was grateful; he wasn't sure his body could handle any more alcohol after last night.

The silence was comfortable between them, and Jensen was grateful that Jared wasn't pushing him to _talk about his feelings_ , one of the many things he liked about the younger man.

Jared’s cell phone startled them both, jarring the silence that seemed to fill the room. Jared’s quiet “Hey babe, you get home OK?” had Jensen standing and moving into his bedroom, giving Jared the privacy to talk to Sandy with an eavesdropper.

Jensen felt weary even after all the sleep he’d gotten over the last 24 hours. Sprawling on his bed Jensen turned the TV on, channel surfing to see what was on, fell into a semi-doze waiting on his friend. Jared clearing his throat brought Jensen out of his doze, and he pushed himself up to lean against the headboard.

“Sandy get back safely?” he asked and smiled as Jared nodded.

“Yeah, flight was delayed an hour, but what’s new? Look, I need to go, man. I have to read the script changes Sera sent over before Shannon called.”

Jensen stood up, his legs feeling a bit rubbery as he moved towards Jared and pulled him into a hug. Jared’s arms automatically came up and wrapped around him. Jared’s arms encompassing him had the same feeling as always; safety and acceptance – the acceptance allowing Jensen to be himself and not have put on the act he had grown accustomed to using in public.

“Thank you.” He whispered into Jared’s neck.

“Anytime.” Was whispered back, as Jared’s arms tightened and he placed a gentle kiss on Jensen’s temple.

Jensen stilled at the feel of Jared’s lips on his skin. “Jared?” he said, making the name a question.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Jared said as he released Jensen and stepped back. Looking at Jensen steadily, Jared reached out and cupped a stubbled cheek in his palm. “I’ll see you on set tomorrow. I’ll have the coffee waiting.”

Jared ran his thumb down Jensen’s cheek, before turning and walking out of the suite. He paused in the open doorway and looked over his shoulder at Jensen. “You may wanna call Shannon let her know you’re okay before you get on set.” He suggested before closing the door quietly behind him.

Jensen collapsed back onto the bed and ran both hands over his face, groaning. He banged his head off the mattress in frustration. _When did my life get so fucking complicated?_ he thought. Sitting up he grabbed his cell and sent a quick text to Shannon saying he was OK and would see her on set.

Dropping the phone on the night stand, Jensen climbed under the bed covers. He expected it to take an age to fall asleep, with all the different thoughts and emotions running amok in his head; the turmoil regarding Jeff, his attraction to Jeff and Jared, what his dad would say about all of it. But tonight it didn’t, tonight he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  
Filming was hectic over the next weeks, leaving little time for thoughts of anything other than Dean and Sam and the monster of the week, for which Jensen was grateful. Each morning Jeff’s card sitting on his dresser stared at him almost accusingly, until Jensen turned away and left his room. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw the card away. Not yet.

Jared was running interference with him and the rest of the crew, keeping them at bay as much as possible. Jensen felt raw, battered from all sides and he was desperately waiting for the Thanksgiving break in November when he planned to go home to Texas.

Sitting on the plane to Texas for Thanksgiving, Jensen was no closer to an answer for Jeff. The vampire had kept his word and hadn’t tried to contact him at all, though Jensen suspected that Shannon was passing on information regarding him. Settling into his seat, Jensen closed his eyes as the plane started taxiing. He’d read the journals his father had in the attic and see where they took him, as he needed to answer Jeff soon.

Because burning a hole in his luggage was the script for the episode to be filmed in the New Year; John Winchester was coming home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Texas, November 2005**  
   
Alan watched as his family sat talking, or rather as Mackenzie and Josh talked, and Jensen stared into space.  Something was bothering Jensen, Alan could tell.  What disturbed him was the last time Jensen had been this distracted and out of it was when he was trying to find a way to tell them he was gay.  Setting the tray of coffees on the table Alan joined his children, watching Jensen closely.  
   
“Mom send you away?” Josh asked grinning as he took the proffered cup from his father.  
   
“I know when to leave your mom alone in the kitchen and when to beat a tactical withdrawal.” Alan said with as much dignity as he could muster while his children laughed at him, even Jensen; it was well known that _nobody_ was allowed in the kitchen while Donna Ackles sorted through the dishes after any big meal, portioning out leftovers for freezing.  
   
“All done?” he asked as Donna as she sat on the arm of his chair and took his cup and finished his coffee for him.  
   
“I just need two volunteers to help with clean-up,” Donna smiled at her oldest and youngest children as they walked into the kitchen, arguing over who was doing what.  
   
“Real subtle, Mom.” Jensen said when he was left alone with his parents.  
   
Donna just smiled at her son and waited.  Jensen turned the empty cup in his hands over and over before asking, “I need to read the journals – Frederick’s journals.”  
   
Alan watched as Jensen refused to meet his eye, reaching out a hand, he stilled the nervous fidgeting. “Why?” He asked.  
   
Jensen looked at him then and Alan felt the anguish and despair in his son’s eyes like a physical blow. “Jensen, son, what’s wrong? You can talk to us about anything, you know that.” Alan said needing to ease the pain he knew Jensen was suffering.  
   
Jensen snorted at that, “Yeah right, Dad. ‘Cause you’re so keen to hear about any boyfriends I’ve had aren’t you.” Jensen said sharply as he looked at his parents again; Alan looking as though he’d been slapped in the face, and Donna was shocked that Jensen had spoken like that.  “I’m sorry Dad, but you don’t exactly hide that you can’t stand that I’m gay, can barely stay in the room if I mention a man’s name in anything other than a causal-guys-out-drinking-and-watching-a-game way.”  
   
Alan opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped it shut when he realized that he couldn’t. Taking a deep steadying breath, not wanting to get into an argument over this again, Alan stood up.  “The journals are in the attic. Come on, you can give me a hand getting them down.”  
   
Donna squeezed his hand as he walked away, and caught Jensen’s as he moved past her.  “Your father loves you Jensen, never doubt that.  It’s just it’s not the life he imagined for you when you were born.”  
   
“I know, Mom, I know.” Jensen smiled sadly at her, knowing that if he became Jeff’s feeder, the gay issue would be least of his worries where his Dad was concerned.  
     
“That’s the last one.” Jensen said as he wiped the sweat from his face.  The boxes were covered in dust and obviously hadn’t been touched since they were put in the attic years ago.  “Did you ever figure out why your grandfather left you them?”  
   
Alan shook his head, “No, never.  Look son, I don’t know what you expect to find in these books, but you have to remember it was a different time with different values and beliefs, especially were vampires were concerned.  Don’t get me wrong, I hold no love for vampires; I saw what they did to my granddaddy and his daddy. How they became killers because of a vampire’s actions and I can never forgive them for that. But sometimes, hell probably most of the time, the vampires talked about in the journals are innocent.”

“I know, Dad. I just need to understand some things, that’s all.” Jensen said quietly.  
   
“Shout if you need anything, and don’t stay up too long.”  
   
Jensen waited until his dad had left the room before opening the lid on the box numbered 1.  Lifting the first journal out Jensen sat down and started to read the about the life of his 10 year old great- grandfather.  
   
The coffee that Josh had left on the desk was long cold when Jensen closed the third journal and rubbed at his aching eyes.  His contacts were making them sore so he decided to take a break and get his glasses, and fresh coffee he thought with a grimace as he swallowed the mouthful of cold brew.  
   
Picking up the next book 15 minutes later, Jensen started reading again.  
 

 _ **Monday, September  23rd, 1912**  
   
Father says I must complete my chores before I am allowed to practice with my knife set.  He has set up targets along the back fence for me and says I must practice for 30 minutes every day until I am able to hit a moving target on sight.   
   
I will never be able to do that, it’s so hard.   
   
I have to wait to make sure Henry has not followed me as well.  Younger brothers are annoying I have decided.  _

   
What kind of man gives his 12 year old son a set of knives to play with? Jensen thought as he read the entry dated four weeks after Frederick’s 12th birthday.  The kind that is seeking revenge on his wife’s killer, a quiet voice whispered back, and Jensen was struck by the similarity between his great-grandfather’s upbringing and Dean Winchester’s.  
   
Jensen flicked forwards through the entries; it would take too long to read them all and he waited for something to catch his eye before he stopped to read another entry.  
 

 _ **Wednesday, November 19th 1919**  
   
Father allowed me to hunt on my own last night.  He had tracked a vampire to the Hotel Darlington on N15th St and Arch St but he has been ill in bed with influenza and we are all worried about him.  He did not want the vampire to escape as he has been tracking him for months.  
   
I assured him that I was more than capable of dealing with one vampire on my own and set off after dinner.   
   
It was easy to gain access to the room the creature was staying in, and I sat on the balcony waiting for it to return until nearly midnight. I waited until it was in bed and sleeping before stepping inside.  My heart was pounding so hard I felt it would awaken the creature for sure.  
   
Raising my arms high, I plunged the stake down hard.  The sound of bones breaking was awful, the thick cloying scent of blood was nauseating and I felt my stomach revolt at the smell. _

 _I waited a minute before checking that the creature was dead then left the room._

   
Jensen closed the book quickly feeling sick himself at the casual, almost easy way that Frederick described the killing. Deciding he’d read enough for the night, Jensen turned the light out and made his way to his bedroom, hoping that sleep would come easily, but knowing that it wouldn’t.

Alan stood in the doorway early the next morning watching Jensen as he sat reading a journal.  Placing a mug of coffee on the desk, he ran a hand over Jensen’s head.  Jensen looked up from the journal and smiled his thanks before bending his head and reading again.  
   
“Is he still reading?” Donna asked when Alan came back into the kitchen.  
   
“Yeah, it was past 1am before he finished last night.” Alan said.  
   
“And he started again before 7 this morning.” Donna added. “I’ll give him a little while, then take some pancakes up, see if he’ll tell me what he’s looking for.”  
 

 _ **Sunday, April 24th 1938**  
   
My business took me to New York this past week; I had a meeting with a new distributor for the area and spent three days in the city.   
   
I was walking back to my hotel after having dinner on the second night when I spied a man – a vampire – attacking a woman. I followed them into an alleyway, and watched as he pushed her up against a wall.  I wanted to step in, but I was unprepared for this; all my equipment was back in my hotel room, and knew I would be unable to help her without it.  
   
The way she was pleading, begging him not to hurt her was nearly unbearable to hear, and I imagined that this is what my mother must have sounded like as she pleaded for her life.  
   
The creature was laughing at her, enjoying her fear and the sounds she was making, I could see from my hiding place. Her cries as the thing bit down into her neck tore through me and I watched as it feed from her. I must have made a sound because it lifted its head and looked towards me, the woman’s blood dripping obscenely from its fangs.  
   
It waited a moment before feeding from her again.  The woman’s cries and struggles were growing weaker until they stopped altogether.  Only when it had bled her dry did the monster drop the body onto the ground. It stepped back from the crumpled body, casually picked its hat from the ground, brushed it off and walked out of the alley.  
   
I had never witnessed a vampire draining a human before, and it chilled me to think that my mother had suffered as this young woman had.  I feel guilty even now that I did nothing to prevent the monster, but I knew it would have turned on me as well, such was its blood lust. And that I would be unable to over power a vampire on my own.  
   
But I saw its face, and vowed on the young woman’s lifeless body to seek vengeance for her death. _

   
Jensen’s hand trembled as he closed the journal and put it away.  Standing, he walked to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. He stood in the middle of his bedroom and stared around at all the paraphernalia he had collected over his life, and his mom had kept. He felt strange, as though he was outside of his body watching himself, and he didn’t like the feeling at all.   
   
He turned at a sound in the hallway, and that was enough. Running into the bathroom, Jensen fell to his knees and vomited into the toilet. He held onto the sides of the toilet, retching until there was nothing left inside.  A cool washcloth on his neck had Jensen turning his head and looking at his dad.  
   
“I was sick after pretty much each journal by the time I finished them,” Alan said as he offered Jensen a glass of water to rinse his mouth with.   
   
When he’d finished, Alan pulled his son into a tight hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he felt him trembling. They sat on the bathroom floor, father and son until Jensen pulled back. He opened his mouth to say thank you but Alan stopped him.  
   
“I’m your dad, it’s what I’m here for,” he said as Jensen stood up. “Help an old man up and we can go eat. Your mom’s made her special blueberry pancakes, if you’re feeling up to them.”  
   
“Yeah I’m OK, it was just...”  
   
“I know son, I know. Come on, before the others eat them all – your mom only makes the special pancakes when you come home now.”  
   
   
 **Vancouver, December 2005**  
   
Filming was due to finish in four days and Jensen could not remember a shoot ever being as bad as this. He couldn’t get the journals out of his head; the pain and violence he had read about, and it was affecting his concentration.  He was missing marks, forgetting cues and generally messing up on set – something that he always prided himself on never doing.  He was a professional, dammit, personal life did not affect filming – ever.  
   
And it’s turning me into an alcoholic, he thought as he drained the bottle of beer, setting the empty on the coffee table with the others.  Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Sarah, pushed up against an alley wall, blood pumping out of her neck as Jeff stood by and watched.  His dreams, _nightmares_ , were variations of a theme, all ending with him covered in blood, watching as his family and friends died at the hands of a vampire.  
   
Lifting another beer to his mouth, Jensen hoped that this one would take him into oblivion.  
   
…… _a sound behind him made him stumble……copper, all he could smell was the sweet tang of copper…..everything was red……blood and pain surrounded him……. he ran but couldn’t get away….a voice called out, words indistinguishable…… a face…..Jared, no!........Mackenzie, Mom, Josh, Dad….faces changing constantly ……please don’t hurt them a voice cried……red, blood……..fangs……“No!”_

Jensen woke up panting as though he had been running, trying to escape an unseen foe, his heart thundering in his chest.  
   
He reached out a shaking hand and picked up his cell, dialing a number he knew by heart.  
   
“Tell me you’re not like that. Tell me you’re not that monster, please?” Jensen pleaded brokenly when a voice answered.  
   
“Jensen, who-”

“Tell me, please!” Jensen pleaded again, choking on a sob.  
   
“I’m not a monster sweetheart, I swear,” Jeff promised. “Are you on your own Jensen? Is somebody with you?” He asked concerned about the state Jensen was obviously in.  
   
“Hotel.” Jensen mumbled quietly.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“No! Wait!” Jeff said cursing as the dialing tone was loud in his ear.  “Fuck!” he yelled loudly causing Bisou to bark excitedly at his feet.  “Shh, I’m fine girl” he said running a hand over her coat.  
   
Sighing wearily, feeling older than his 200 years by far Jeff leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes. He would still wait, even though everything instinct was screaming at him to find Jensen and just make the feeder his.  But he had made a promise and he was sticking to it.  He would need to, to be able to earn Jensen’s trust, no matter the cost to himself.  
 

  
   
Jared took one look at his friend the next day, taking in the red-rimmed eyes and pale skin that Shannon had struggled to disguise, and decided that Jensen was talking to him after filming, no more excuses.  Watching as Jensen brushed off Shannon’s hand when it settled on his shoulder, Jared shared a look with the make-up artist as Jensen walked unsteadily out of the trailer.  
   
“I better make sure he’s OK,” Jared said as he got up.  
   
“Tell him that we’re here if he needs us.” Shannon said quietly.  
   
Jared jogged across the studio to catch up with his friend.  “Hey man, you OK?” He asked as they fell into step.  
   
“I’m fine.” Jensen sighed, just needing to be left alone with his whirling thoughts.  
   
“Sure you are.” Jared muttered under his breath as he steered him towards the waiting car. Jensen climbed into the back of the vehicle and rested his head against the window, sighing wearily.  He knew that after the day he had had that Jared wouldn’t let him get away with saying he was fine anymore.  
   
Jensen let the quiet surround him as they drove towards the hotel.  Jared shaking his shoulder gently roused him from his daze and Jensen looked around, slightly disorientated.  
   
“We’re here, Jen,” Jared said quietly, not wanting to startle his friend.  
   
Walking into his room a few minutes later, Jensen realized he had no recollection of leaving the set and getting here. Stumbling towards the bar to grab whatever alcohol he had left, Jensen was startled when the bottle of vodka was taken out of his hand.  
   
“I think you’ve had enough over the last couple of days, don’t you?” Jared asked softly. 

Jensen felt his shoulders slump as he sat down on the sofa, head in his hands.  
   
“Jensen, talk to me.”  
   
The concern in Jared’s voice, as well as the hand that was running through his hair, were Jensen’s undoing.  With a shudder he found himself telling his friend about the journals, and what he’d read in them. About the nightmares, and how he had no idea what to do. Jensen was so tired, he even told Jared about the feelings he had for him.  
   
“What are you going to do about the vampire thing?” Jared asked when Jensen had finished, neatly avoiding the attraction comments.  
   
“I have no idea,” Jensen said looking towards the younger man, the turmoil clear in his eyes.  “I mean do I want to live forever, and with the man that killed my great-great-grandmother? I mean, my Dad can barely stand to hear me talking about boyfriends as it is, I’d lose him completely if he knew I was with a vampire.”  
   
Wrapping his arm around Jensen’s shoulders, Jared leaned back against the sofa, taking Jensen with him.

“You just need to work out what you want, Jen, and not worry about anybody else.”  
   
The deep sigh from Jensen was Jared’s only answer.  They sat quietly for a while, Jensen drinking in the warmth and comfort Jared was giving him, leaning into the hand Jared was still running through his hair, Jensen moaned quietly and turned his head to give Jared easier access to the back of his head.  
   
“Jen?” Jared’s voice was low, strained, and Jensen lifted his head to look at the younger man. He moved forwards unconsciously, bringing his face closer to Jared’s. A hand on his cheek stopped the movement and Jensen frowned as Jared moved away.  
   
“This isn’t what you want, not really,” Jared looked down at Jensen, rubbing his thumb across Jensen’s cheek.  
   
They stayed like that, eyes locked before Jensen pulled back.  He couldn’t do it; not to Jared, or Sandy, or Jeff he silently acknowledged to himself.  
   
Drawing in a ragged breath, Jensen moved away from the warmth of Jared to the corner of the sofa.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t-“  
   
“It’s OK, Jensen.”

Jensen just laughed a bitter, ironic sound.  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re jumped by your male co-stars all the time.”  
   
“Well I am irresistible!” Jared pouted and puffed out his chest.  
   
Jensen laughed again, but this time it was proper a laugh Jared was pleased to note, as the tension between them seemed to melt away.  
   
Jensen just looked at him, and felt something loosen in his chest.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his feelings for Jared had been changing since he had gotten to know Jeff.  He no longer felt the zing of attraction when he was with Jared, just the warmth of friendship and acceptance for who he was.  
   
“Thank you.” Jensen said the words deep and heartfelt.  
   
“So,” Jared said after a minute of silence, “what are you going to do about Jeff?”  
   
Jensen thumped his head off the sofa cushions, groaning. “I don’t know,” he whined.  
   
“Could you see yourself spending eternity with him?”  
   
“I don’t know,” Jensen said quietly. “I don’t know.”  
 

  
   
 **Los Angeles, December 2005**  
   
"I'm fine mom, really. I'm staying with a friend." Jensen could feel his mother's disappointment like a heavy weight on his chest.

"What friend?" Alan asked, the unspoken _what man_ clearly evident as his voice echoed across the miles. "Is it Jared?" The suspicion and almost accusation clear in Alan's voice.

"No," Jensen said straight away, "Jared's a friend Dad, a really good friend who is spending the holidays at home with his family and Sandy."

"Then who is it?" Alan demanded, a horrific thought coming to mind, "Does it have something to do with reading those damn journals at Thanksgiving?"

Jensen closed his eyes, knowing that what he was about to them, would irrevocably alter his relationship with his parents forever, especially his father.

  
"I met somebody, a while ago, and I needed to get a few things straight in my head before I could say anything to him, or you." 

"What's his name Jensen? How did you meet him?" Donna asked softly, shooting a look at Alan that clearly said _be quiet_

"Jeff, Jeffrey Dean Morgan. He played John Winchester in the pilot, and was picked up for the series."

"That man must be at least 15 years older than you," Alan almost spat down the phone, worry for Jensen growing steadily in his stomach, making him shorter with his son than he meant to be.

Jensen took a deep breath, "Actually he's nearly 200 years older, Dad." Jensen held his breath waiting for the explosion as Alan connected all the dots.

"200 -- he's a vampire,"  Alan shouted down the phone and Jensen pulled his cell away from his ear at the sudden noise. "Jesus Christ Jensen, what the hell are you doing?!?" His father demanded.

"Alan!" Donna snapped, "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation if you let Jensen tell you."

"But-" Alan started to say.

"Let Jensen explain," Donna said in the tone of voice that nobody ever crossed.

"Did you know that a vampire is constantly searching for their feeder? The one human they need to survive forever?” Jensen asked. Not waiting for an answer he carried on,  “I'm Jeff's feeder, and he's promised me that if I decide that I don't want to be, he'll leave me alone, wait for me to die then start searching for his feeder again."

"And you trust him?" Alan questioned scathingly, "You know they're all thieving, lying killers."

"Yes Dad, I trust him.  He hasn't contacted me once since telling me all this. I need to get things straight in my head, I don't want to make up my mind because of the journals and the way the Ackles clan hates vampires. But I needed to read the journals, to help me see things from a different perspective."

"Oh, Jensen,” Donna said quietly, “We're here when you need us sweetheart, you know that." Her voice trembling slightly over the last words.

"I know Mom, I know." Feeling himself start to shake slightly as reaction set in, Jensen tried to finish the call quickly.  "I need to go, I've -"

The emotion, the fear of losing his son made Alan's voice rough and unsteady as he cut in to say, "Jensen," he coughed to clear his suddenly tight throat. “Just promise me you'll be careful. I don't think your mother and I could live with ourselves if you ended up like Sarah."  
   
"I will Dad, I promise," Jensen replied just as emotional himself.

"Promise you'll call us, every day." Donna demanded.

"I will Mom."

"Take care son, and stay safe, please," Alan said.  "And call your mom, or I'll never hear the end of it."

Jensen laughed weakly, grateful that his father was at least trying to understand.

"We love you Jensen," Donna said quietly

"I love you both too Mom, I'll call you guys tomorrow," Jensen said as they rang off.

Collapsing back on the sofa, Jensen felt as though he'd been pulled through an emotional wringer in the last 20 minutes. His thoughts and feelings were all over the place. Picking up his guitar Jensen started strumming softly, hoping to lose himself in the peace of the music.  
   
A knock at the door roused him sometime later and Jensen set the instrument aside before he walked to the door.  Opening it, he was greeted by two men.  The shorter of the two turned at the sound of the door opening and smiled slightly.  
   
“Jensen Ackles?” he asked, with a slightly European sounding accent that Jensen couldn’t place.  
   
“Who wants to know?” Jensen asked warily, leaning against the door.  
   
“I am Alexander Drake, this is my partner Bram. You may know me better as Count Dracula.”  
   
Jensen stared at the two men, trying to decide what to do.  Stepping back after a moment he held the door open.  “Come in.”  
   
“Thank you. We won’t take too much of your time, I assure you.” Bram said as they walked past Jensen.  
   
They all stood in the hallway as Jensen tried to process what was happening.  It was only when Dracula cleared his throat that Jensen realized they were still in the hallway and led them into the living area.  They all sat down and stared at each other.  
   
“I guess Jeff sent you.” Jensen said into the uncomfortable silence.  
   
“Not at all. Jeffrey doesn’t know we’re in the States.” Bram answered.  
   
Jensen was surprised, but quietly pleased.  Jeff had promised to leave him alone, and seemed to be doing so.  
   
“Why are you here then?” Jensen asked.  
   
“To help you make a decision.” Dracula replied, as though stating the obvious.  
 

  
   
Jensen was nervous, terrified if he was being honest with himself.  Talking with Dracula and Bram had answered a lot of his questions, and when he had called Shannon at Dracula’s prompting, she had answered the rest. And then admonished him for not talking to her before. Shaking his head as he remembered the gentle reproach in Shannon’s voice, Jensen instead replayed the conversation with his parents over in his mind - the understanding from his mom, the quiet anger from his father.   
   
Jensen knew that his father would never really accept his relationship with Jeff, but he was prepared for that.  He had known that from the outset.  His mom would ease his dad into accepting this as she had Jensen’s sexuality. Jensen turned to the front door and taking a deep breath, he knocked and listened as a dog barked somewhere inside the house.  He could hear the barking getting closer, and Jeff saying “down girl,” and his nerves kicked up a notch.  
   
Jeff paused before swinging the door open – cut grass and vanilla assaulted him, and he felt a tug deep inside.  Opening the door wide he looked at his feeder.   
   
“Jensen.” He said voice barely above a whisper.  
   
Jensen looked at the man in front of him, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  
   
Jeff held out his hand, smiling widely when Jensen took it and held on tight, feeling the fine tremors that were running through Jensen.  Pulling him gently into the house, Jeff lead Jensen through the living room and out onto the patio. Bisou was running around their feet as he pushed Jensen into one of the chairs surrounding the table. Bisou sat quietly at Jensen’s feet, looking at Jeff for permission to move forwards.  
   
“Would you like a drink?” Jeff asked, Jensen shook his head and scratched behind Bisou’s ear.  
   
“What’s her name?”  
   
“Bisou,” Jeff replied as his dog fell in love with Jensen, and all the attention he was paying her.  Not that Jeff could blame her.  
   
Jeff sat down next to Jensen and looked him over.  The lack of sleep was evident, but Jeff could see no fear or doubt in his eyes.  
   
“I spoke to Alex and Bram, they came to my apartment.” Jensen said.  
   
Jeff cursed and made to stand up, but Jensen’s hand on his arm stopped him.  “I never asked them to.” Jeff needed Jensen to understand this, to know he didn’t break his promise.  
   
“I know,” Jensen reassured. “They told me how bad you were when they found you, after Sarah died. How you seemed to have aged nearly 10 years, how you just shut down.” Jensen took a deep breath, “I don’t want to be responsible for that.”  
   
Jeff didn’t dare move, he didn’t want to then discover he was day-dreaming again.  
   
“I spoke to Jared, then called my mom, and dad.” Jensen snorted, “That was a fun conversation, not.”  
   
“What did they say?” Jeff asked.  
   
“Well mom was OK, I guess, but dad. Let’s just say if I’d told him where you live, you’d probably have the Ackles clan on your doorstep with flaming torches and wooden stakes.” Jensen looked down at the tiles of the patio.   
   
“Oh,” Jeff said, “I guess I’ll pull up the drawbridge and set the alligators free in the moat then.”  
   
Jensen burst out laughing, glad to feel the tension seeping away.  Jeff smiled happily, just watching, thinking what a gorgeous man he was, and that he needed to see and hear Jensen laugh every day.  
   
“So how are we doing this?” Jensen waved his hand between them.  
   
Jeff grabbed hold of the hand Jensen was waving around and stood, pulling Jensen up and into his arms. They felt right together, Jensen thought as he relaxed into the embrace. He felt Jeff’s hand stroking up and down his back and felt the tension of the last weeks and months start to drain away.  
   
“We take it slow, one day at a time. There’s no rush.” Jeff said quietly into his hair, and Jensen felt himself relax even more.  
   
Pulling back slightly, Jeff looked into Jensen’s eyes, before leaning in and brushing his lips gently over Jensen’s.  It was a brief touch, a promise of more to come. Jensen ran his tongue over his lips as he leaned against Jeff, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He felt Jeff rub a thumb over his cheek and he sighed.  
   
“Come on,” Jeff said quietly, “let’s go inside, and stretch out on the sofa.”  
   
“Hmm,” Jensen said as he let himself be lead back into the house.  He was so tired; filming had been intense, add in the sleepless nights trying to decide what to do regarding Jeff, and Jensen felt as though he could sleep for a week.  
   
Lying down on the huge sofa Jensen snuggled into the cushions. Bisou jumped up curled into the semi-conscious man.  
   
“So that’s how it’s going to be is it, madam?” Jeff asked as he grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and spread it over the sleeping man. He bent down and ran a hand through Jensen’s hair, smiling as the younger man moaned at the touch and moved into the caress. Placing a kiss on top of Jensen’s head, Jeff left the dozing man and headed into his study.  He had a phone call to make and a vampire and feeder to have a little chat with.  
   
It was dark when Jensen woke; he looked around the room and stood up, stretching to ease the kinks in his back.  He could hear voices from somewhere deep inside the house and walked towards them.  
   
“You shouldn’t have spoken to him, I promised I’d leave him alone, let him make his own mind up.” Jeff’s voice was strained, as though he was holding onto his temper by a thread. “Yeah, I know Alex, but he’s here now.” Jensen heard Jeff sigh when he spoke again his voice was quieter, “thank you, both, I don’t know if I’d have survived losing my feeder again.”  
   
Jeff looked up as Jensen walked into the study and smiled at Jensen, grinning when Jensen smiled back.  “I’ll see you and Bram in the New Year.” Jeff said before hanging up.  
   
Jensen walked up to Jeff, stopping when Jeff could feel the heat off his body.  His voice low, gravelly with sleep he asked “Would you like to feed from me, my vampire?”  
   
   
   
Jensen expected Jeff to growl, and slam him against the wall as he bit down and drank the the life blood from him, instead he backed away, shaking his head.  
   
“You’re not ready, Jensen. We need to talk; I need to know that you understand everything – what immortality means. Are you ready to watch your family di-“  
   
Jensen placed a finger over Jeff’s lips, “I know, Jeff. It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks now. I’ve spent so much time thinking about this, I need to _do_ something now. Shannon and Bram told me what to expect, and Alex told me what it means to a vampire.  I’ve talked to my folks, hell I even spoke to Jared.”  
   
Stripping of his shirt, Jensen crowded into Jeff’s personal space. “I’m your feeder, Jeff.”  
   
Jeff groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest.  Jensen’s scent was overpowering this close and the sight of him half-naked was too much for Jeff’s restraint.  Grabbing hold of Jensen, he pulled him in close.  Jensen could feel Jeff trembling against him. They stood wrapped in each others embrace, drinking in the closeness and warmth of the other.  
   
“I’m ready,” Jensen said quietly.  
   
Jeff smiled, and taking Jensen’s hand walked upstairs to his bedroom.   
   
It was nothing like Jensen expected.  He’d thought it would be painful, that he’d secretly be repulsed by it, but he wasn’t.  Jeff sat on the bed and pulled Jensen over his lap, straddling him.  Jeff’s fingers slid over the satiny smooth skin of Jensen’s back, and he arched into the touch. Jeff licked along Jensen’s collarbone, the taste of Jensen bursting over his tongue.  
   
Jensen’s ran his fingers through Jeff’s hair, moving them to rest on his shoulders as Jeff pulled back and stared at him. “Last chance, Jensen.  Once we do this, once I taste you there’s no going back.”  
   
Jensen smiled, “I’m ready,” he repeated.  
   
All the tension drained out of Jeff’s body. He buried his face in Jensen’s neck; licking across the fragile skin there Jeff let his fangs lower.  Jensen felt the tips scrap across his skin and shuddered.  Taking a deep breath, surrounding himself in Jensen’s scent, Jeff bit down.  
   
The taste was nothing like Jeff remembered. Sarah had been sweet and delicate.  Jensen was strong, the taste heady and almost overpowering. Jeff drank deeply, his hand in Jensen’s hair holding his feeder’s head to one side to gain better access.  
   
Jensen groaned at the feelings washing over him; he felt powerful, invincible even and he was so hard and aching it was nearly unbearable.  He panted as Jeff withdrew his fangs and bathed the puncture marks, the feel of Jeff’s tongue dragging over his skin going through Jensen like electricity. He watched as Jeff licked at his lips, before surging forwards and kissing him deeply. Jensen relished the coppery tang in his mouth, knowing that it was his blood he was tasting.  
   
Jeff growled into the kiss, grabbing hold of Jensen by the head as they fell back onto the bed.  Jensen sank into Jeff’s body, slipping between the vampire’s spread legs as if he belonged there. Jeff ran his hands down the smooth skin of Jensen’s back, grinning into the kiss when his lover groaned and pushed into the touch.  
   
Pulling back slightly, the grin widened on his face. “That good, babe?” He asked, dragging his nails down the length of Jensen’s spin.  
   
“Oh fuck,” Jensen moaned, a shudder racking his body. He’d always had a sensitive back, but the feelings Jeff was wringing from him were more intense than he’d ever felt before.  
   
“I’m going to spend eternity learning what turns you on, what makes you shudder and cry out, what makes you scream my name in ecstasy.” Jeff whispered, his voice low and rough. “And what it feels like to sink my hard cock into your tight body.”  
   
"Oh God," Jensen bit out.

The feel of Jeff's cool breath ghosting over his skin raising goose bumps even as the words heated his blood. Rolling his hips to try and ease the ache in his groin had them both moaning, the friction of their erections rubbing together through their clothes causing them both to push and strain against each other even more.  
   
Jensen moved his mouth over Jeff's jaw and down his throat, enjoying the feel of the rough stubble against his lips, leaving a line of stinging kisses in his wake before biting at the juncture of Jeff's neck and shoulder in an echo of Jeff's bite. His tongue darting out and gently soothing the sharp ache left behind, Jensen kissed along Jeff's collarbone, sucking a mark onto his lover, smiling as the vampire shuddered at the touch.  
   
Jeff pulled him down into another bruising kiss, thrusting his tongue into Jensen's mouth as he reached down to fumble with their belts and open their jeans, a calloused hand reaching inside to take hold of his erection. Jensen moved slightly, easing Jeff out of his briefs, and placed his hand over Jeff's as they wrapped their hands around both erections and began to stroke up and down, slowly and gently, eyes locked the whole time.  
   
"Jeff..." Jensen fell forwards, catching himself on both arms before he pitched face first into Jeff’s chest.  
   
Jeff gently ran a thumb over the tip of Jensen’s erection, and Jensen thrust and arched, pushing into Jeff’s grip as he repeated the action.

"I'm not going to last long if you... fuck... keep doing... that” Jensen gasped and Jeff smirked, twisting his hand again. “Fuck Jeff, keep doing that."  
   
"You like that?" He asked, doing it again.  
   
"Ye...ah!" Jensen groaned. "Jeff!"  
   
Jeff cupped the back of Jensen’s head and captured his lips, his tongue thrusting into the younger man's mouth to the same rhythm of his hand, groaning as his lover writhed and panted against him. Jeff was grateful for having eternity to listen to Jensen making those wonderful noises.  
   
"Jensen, gonna come." He bit out, Jensen’s hard cock sliding against his own was testing his restraint.  
   
"Me too."  
   
Jeff squeezed and flicked his thumb over the tip of Jensen's erection once more and felt the younger man give a full body shudder as he came; back arched and head thrown back as he cried out. Jeff watched his eyes turn black as Jensen cried his name before speeding up the rhythm with his hand, Jensen’s release easing the movement as he came with a cry.  
   
Jensen’s arms gave out and he collapsed, body trembling with aftershocks.  Jeff wrapped his arms around him, enjoying the way Jensen settled on him. He sighed, knowing they’d have to move soon, but for a few moments he was going to enjoy the feel of his feeder in his arms.  
 

  
Jensen woke slowly, the smell of coffee teasing him awake.  He lay there for a moment, replaying the events over in his mind.  Smiling to himself, he stretched and got out of bed.  Jeff had left some clothes out for him and Jensen pulled them on before following the delicious smell into the kitchen.  
   
“Everything’s fine Shannon, I promise,” Jeff was saying into the phone in the crook of his neck. Bisou’s happy bark at Jensen’s arrival had him turning around and smiling at his feeder.  “We’ll see you in the new year when filming starts. Yeah I will, take care, sweetheart.”  
   
Hanging up, Jeff walked over to Jensen, kissing him softly.  “Hey,” he said as Jensen leaned into the kiss.  “Sleep well?”  
   
Jensen nodded, before moving around him and reaching for the coffee pot.  Jeff laughed as he pulled cups down from the cupboard.  “Not a morning person then?” He asked as Jensen practically inhaled his coffee. "Omelet OK?” He started pulling vegetables, cheese and eggs out of the fridge.  
   
“Yeah, that’ll be good.” Jensen said when the caffeine had done its job, his voice slightly rough with sleep.  
   
“Here, make yourself useful and chop these,” Jeff said handing over the vegetables. Setting the pan on the stove, Jeff started beating the eggs in a bowl as Jensen chopped the vegetables. He and Jeff chatted; Jeff asking about Jensen’s family and home in Texas and about living in Vancouver. The unexpected pain of the knife cutting into his fingers had Jensen gasping in pain. The blood was running out of the cuts as a small pool formed on the counter top. Jensen turned to run his fingers under the tap, but a hard, warm body stopped him.

“That's mine, babe,” Jeff growled as he licked at the trail of blood running down Jensen’s hand.

Eyes locked with Jensen's, Jeff took his lover's fingers into the warm cavern of his mouth; tongue stroking, wrapping around the digits, pulling them in deeper. His tongue ran over the cuts, probing gently, releasing more blood. They both groaned at the sensation and Jensen sagged against him, eyes glazing over at the arousal that surged through his body.

Jeff slowly released his fingers with a wet sound, before pulling Jensen in for a deep, probing kiss. They rubbed against each other, enjoying the friction; their clothes rustling as they moved. Jeff ran a hand down Jensen's body before cupping his feeder's straining erection and squeezing softly.

Jensen keened in the back of his throat, low and desperate as Jeff moved his hand and gradually lowered Jensen's zipper – the sound swallowed by their harsh panting breaths. Sinking slowly to his knees, Jeff licked a strip up Jensen's erection. Jensen let out a harsh breath as Jeff blew softly over his wet cock. He shuddered and helplessly thrust his hips forwards, desperately seeking the wet heat of Jeff’s mouth.  
   
“Please,” Jensen begged, shamelessly as Jeff’s breath ghosted over his aching cock again. His fingers tangled in Jeff’s hair, Jensen tugged gently, not wanting to hurt his lover, but needing to feel Jeff’s mouth on his erection now.

“Jeff, please,” Jensen begged again, as Jeff gently cupped his balls and squeezed, ignoring Jensen's bobbing erection.

“Please what?” Jeff teased, licking at Jensen’s cock once more, moaning when he tasted the pre-cum Jensen was leaking. Jensen groaned at the pleasure arcing up his spine.

“Oh God, suck me,” he rasped, “please.”

Jeff grinned as he took Jensen to the back of his throat in one move, relishing the sounds that Jensen made above him. Jeff sucked gently, a hand cupping Jensen’s balls as he swallowed around Jensen’s leaking cock.  Bobbing his head, Jeff’s tongue worked the vein on the underside of the beautiful dick in his mouth. He smirked at the almost keening sound from Jensen as it traveled straight to his own cock.  
   
Jensen’s fingers gripped Jeff’s head tightly as he thrust his hips forwards.  Jeff moved the hand cupping Jensen’s ball backwards, and gently pushed the tip into the tight heat of his feeder’s body.  Jensen tensed and came with a startled cry.  The feel of Jensen’s cum flooding into his mouth triggered Jeff’s own orgasm and he moaned around the pulsing cock in his mouth.  
   
Panting harshly, Jensen collapsed to the floor. Jeff wrapped his arms around his lover as they kissed.  Jensen groaned as he tasted his own cum mixed with the unique taste of his vampire and a hint of the coppery tang of his own blood.  Sucking Jeff’s tongue into his mouth, he pushed Jeff onto his back. 

Pulling back, Jensen licked his lips in anticipation as he ran his hands up the corded muscles of Jeff’s thighs. He stopped when he reached the bulge in Jeff’s jeans, grinning when he came across a large damp spot.  
   
Quirking one eyebrow in question, Jensen laughed at the flush that spread across Jeff’s face.  
   
“Haven’t come in my pants in decades,” Jeff mumbled as Jensen stood up, offering his hand to pull Jeff up with him.  
   
“Go shower, I’ll start breakfast,” Jensen said still laughing.  
   
20 minutes later, the omelets were on the table and they were sat eating.  After a leisurely breakfast, they tidied up the kitchen and took fresh mugs of coffee out onto the patio.  Relaxing back into a recliner, Jensen sighed. Jeff watched his feeder carefully; he was waiting for the inevitable freak-out the becoming immortal was bound to bring.  
   
“Not gonna happen.” Jensen muttered around his mug and Jeff realized he must have spoken out loud, again.  “I mean it Jeff, I knew what I was getting into. I know what to expect.  It’s going to be tough, watching my family die, but I can watch over Josh’s kids, and Mac’s when she has any, and make sure they’re all safe. And my dad will come round, eventually – mom will make sure of it.”  Jensen sat up swinging his legs to the floor so he could look at Jeff.  
   
“What about your family, man? You said you had two brothers and sisters – do I get to meet the current generations of the Morgans?” He asked as Jeff sipped his coffee.  
   
“Yeah, I can sort something out,” he said.  Moving to sit opposite Jensen, he cupped his check and ran a thumb over it, “I never meant to come between you and your family Jensen, you have to know that.”  
   
Jensen turned his head and placed a kiss in Jeff’s palm.  “I know. I just need to give dad some time.  The combination of vampire and male is a bit more than he can handle right now. And I don’t know if I’ll ever tell him about you and Sarah.”  
   
Jeff pulled Jensen into his arms, hugging him close. Jensen settled into the embrace, relaxing into the warmth of Jeff’s body. A feeling of rightness settled over him.  Things would be sorted with his Dad, he knew deep down, and then they would be able to spend the next couple of hundred years getting to know each other.  
   
Christmas Day was quiet, just the two of them, well three if you counted Bisou.  Jeff spoke to his large family, and Jensen called his folks. The conversation with Alan was strained, but Jensen could tell that his Dad was trying.  Jared was his usual hyper self when Jensen spoke to him; excited for Jeff and Jensen and teasing Jensen about keeping his boyish good-looks.

Jensen canceled his plans for New Year's Eve, staying at home with Jeff instead.  Jeff tried to persuade his lover to go out with his friends, but Jensen wasn’t ready to leave the peace of their home just yet.  They sat, cuddled together on the balcony outside their bedroom, watching as the fireworks lit the night sky.  
   
“Happy New Year,” Jensen whispered as the countdown ended.   
   
“Happy New Year,” Jeff echoed as their lips met in a gentle kiss. “I never thought I’d find you, not again,” Jeff said, the emotion evident in his voice.  
   
Jensen pulled the trembling vampire closer, “I’m here now, Jeff, I’m here.”  
   
Jensen stood and ushered Jeff back into the house.  Closing the doors, but leaving the blinds open, they undressed and climbed into bed.  Jensen settled against the pillows, pulling Jeff into his arms.  Jeff settled down, his head on Jensen’s chest.  Jensen’s smell filled his senses and Jeff felt himself relaxing as sleep claimed them both.  
 

   
 **Vancouver, January 2006**  
   
Jensen’s back hit the wall of the trailer as Shannon collided with him.  
   
“I’m so happy for you both,” she said as she squeezed the stuffing out of him.  
   
“Gotta breathe,” Jensen wheezed, even though his arms were wrapped tight around the make-up artist.  
   
Jeff and Jared just laughed at the pair as they took their seats in front of the mirrors.  
   
“So, what’s it like waking to that ugly mug every morning?” Jared asked as Jensen sat on the other side of Jeff.  
   
“Have you seen him without coffee?” Jeff asked, grimacing at the memory of the coffee machine not switching on before they woke a couple of days ago.  
   
Jared snorted, “Oh yeah, not a pretty sight!” He grinned at Jensen’s indignant “Hey!”  
   
“Don’t worry, darling,” Jeff drawled as he leaned over and kissed Jensen briefly, “I’ll still love you when all the coffee has gone from the world.”  
   
“Do not even joke about that.” Jensen said, shuddering at the thought.  
   
“OK, guys, time to make the Winchesters pretty.” Shannon said as she picked up a set of brushes.  
 

  
   
 **Los Angeles, July 2006**  
   
Jeff moved slowly, groaning at the tight heat of Jensen surrounding him.  The fine tremors wracking Jensen’s body felt so good on his cock.  Leaning down he licked a line up Jensen’s throat, drowning in the taste of his lover as it flooded his mouth.  Reaching between them, Jeff wrapped his hand around Jensen’s erection and started to stroke in time with his thrusts.  
   
The keening cry from Jensen had Jeff grinning, a feral bearing of his teeth and fangs.  Lowering his head again Jeff ran his fangs down Jensen’s throat before sucking a mark into the delicate skin.  
   
“Oh fuck,” Jensen said as he clutched at Jeff’s shoulders. “Do it, wanna feel you feeding and fucking me at the same time.”  
   
The words went right through Jeff, and he moaned.  Feeding off his lover while he was buried deep inside his body would be amazing he knew.   
   
“Are you sure?” He bit out as Jensen pushed back against him, taking his cock even deeper.  
   
“Yeah, do it.” Jensen demanded.  
   
 “Pushy bottom.” He laughed.  
   
Jensen grinned as Jeff lowered until their bodies were pressed close, Jensen’s hard cock trapped between them. His hips rolling into Jensen’s pliant body, Jeff nuzzled at the soft skin of his throat, kissing softly before his fangs sank into flesh.  
   
Jensen arched his head back and plunged is fingers into Jeff’s hair, giving him better access and holding Jeff close. He cried out at the dual sensations; his vampire feeding from him, and his lover possessing his body.  Jeff drank deeply, relishing the taste of Jensen as it spread through his body.  
   
Retracting his fangs, Jeff licked across the puncture marks before moving to kiss Jensen. Jensen groaned at the taste of his blood on Jeff’s tongue. They’d both learned very early in the relationship that Jensen loved to taste his blood on Jeff after a feeding.  
   
Pulling his hips back, Jeff started pounding into Jensen’s willing body.  Both men needing to cum _now_.   
   
“Harder, fuck me harder.” Jensen demanded as he started jacking his dick fast, the burning pressure of his impending climax starting in his balls and spreading out to encompass his whole body.  
   
“So hot,” Jeff moaned as his thrust became erratic, “so fucking hot.”  
   
The pressure became almost unbearable as Jeff’s thrust nudged his prostate and his own hand stripped his cock, and Jensen felt himself start to cum.  “Jeff,” he cried out as he came over his hand and chest.  
   
The tightening of Jensen’s body around his cock tipped Jeff over the edge as well, and with a few more thrusts he moaned his own release into Jensen’s shoulder. They lay panting harshly, as their hearts tried to hammer out of their chests. Jeff pulled out of Jensen’s still clenching body and flopped onto his back next to his younger lover.  
   
“Wow,” he murmured.  
   
Jensen turned his head and smiled slowly, “Yeah” he said as he rolled onto his side and draped an arm over Jeff’s chest, running his fingers lazily through the hairs covering the solid muscles there.  
   
“Jared needs to have a birthday every day if that’s-“  
   
Bisou barking frantically as somebody started pounding on their front door interrupted Jeff and he cursed as he grabbed his boxers off the floor and pulled them on.  He could hear Jensen scrabbling round to find his own clothes and wipe the mess of his chest as he moved through the house.  
   
Flinging open the front door, Jeff started to speak but stepped back as Jared pushed his way into the hallway. He was bent over, clutching at his stomach and chest, gasping for breath. Shutting the door to keep Bisou in, Jeff helped the young man into the living room as Jensen came running downstairs.  
   
“What’s going on?” Jensen asked worriedly as he took in the scene.  
   
“Can you get me a damp washcloth, babe?” Jeff asked as he ran a hand gently over Jared’s hair. “Shh, it’ll be over soon, son.” He said as Jensen handed him the washcloth.  
   
“Jeff?” Jensen said, a hint of fear starting to creep into his voice, “What’s wrong with Jared?”  He placed his own hand on Jared’s shoulder and squeezed gently, offering his support as best he could.  
   
“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Jeff said calmly as he ran a hand through Jared’s sweaty hair. “He’ll be fine once his fangs come in.”  
   
 


	5. Chapter 5

Epilogue

  
 **Hollywood, September 2015**

“They want you for co-lead, said you’d have great on-screen chemistry with your co-star.” Maggie, Jeff’s agent said into the phone.

“Have you read the script?” Jeff growled.

Maggie just laughed down the phone at him. “Of course I have, why do you think I sent it over? Listen Jeff, they want you, and only you. Talk with Jensen, see what he thinks. Gotta go hun. Let me know. Ciao!”

Jeff stared at his cell phone, and then snapped it closed in frustration; he needed Jensen here now, but his feeder had taken his parents to the airport after their stay with them, before heading into town for a meeting about a screenplay.

Alan had gradually come round to the whole gay vampire thing, though he still had his moments. It probably helped his and Jensen’s case, Jeff knew, that Mackenzie had turned out to be Jared’s feeder. Their very public meeting at the New Year's party he and Jensen had thrown 6 months after Jared’s fangs coming in was fast becoming the stuff of legends in the Ackles/Padalecki/Morgan clans.

Of course the added fact that Mackenzie was expecting the couple’s third child didn’t hurt any, Jeff knew.

Opening the script Maggie had couriered over once more, Jeff started muttering under his breath. Bisou looked at him as though he’d lost his marbles, before barking excitedly and running to the front door at the sound of Jensen turning his key in the lock. Walking in to the kitchen a moment later, Jensen leaned down to press a quick kiss to Jeff’s lips before opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Everybody got away safely,” Jensen said as he took a sip from the bottle. Jeff nodded in response, then waited for Jensen to tell him what was bothering him.

Sitting at the breakfast bar, Jensen toyed with the label on the bottle before taking a few more mouthfuls of water, setting the opened bottle on the counter between them.

“Well?” Jeff demanded when he couldn’t wait any longer. “What did they want?”

Nervously Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, a sure sign he was anxious, upset or nervous, and usually a combination of all three Jeff had learned over the years.

“They want me for the lead, well co- lead.” Jensen said.

Jeff whopped and picked the younger man up, kissing him soundly before realizing that Jensen wasn’t anywhere near as excited about this chance in a lifetime as he should be. It wasn’t every actor that was called by Steven Spielberg _personally_ to meet about a role, well not unless you were Tom Hanks, Jeff thought.

“Want to tell me what the problem is?” Jeff asked as he sat back down. Jensen walked out in to the hallway, coming back with an envelope before taking his seat once more. Drawing in a deep breath, he handed the packet to Jeff and sat back, apprehensively motioning for Jeff to open it.

Peeling back the edge of the envelope, Jeff pulled out the script and turned it over reading the title of the film and the part Jensen had been asked to go to the studio to talk with the producers about. Wide grin spreading across his face, Jeff handed over his own copy of the same script, just with a different name under title.

Jensen looked between the two copies before joining his vampire in grinning. The copies of _Dracula – a Vampires’ search for his feeder_ falling to the work surface as they stared at each other; Jensen’s with the name _Bram Stoker_ in bold print, Jeff’s with _Count Dracula_. Grabbing hold of Jensen and kissing him soundly, the younger man moaned and wrapped his arms around Jeff, pulling the vampire in tight.

Kissing Jeff soundly, Jensen grinned as Jeff kissed and licked down his throat, before asking as he always did.

“May I feed my love?”

Jensen placed a quick kiss to Jeff’s lips, before smiling and saying, as always, “Of course, my vampire.”

  
 _Fin_   



End file.
